


A Love Story in Three Acts

by skyermirth



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Adam Parrish & Blue Sargent Friendship, Adam Parrish has a crush, Alcoholic recovery, Alcoholics Anonymous, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crush at First Sight, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Joseph Kavinsky/Ronan Lynch, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Sexual Assault, Ronan Lynch Has Feelings, Ronan Lynch Has No Chill, Ronan Lynch has a crush, Ronan Lynch is soft, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2020-12-27 03:11:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 77,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21111722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyermirth/pseuds/skyermirth
Summary: AU Ronan Lynch is a troubled movie star, who needs to stay with his friends Gansey and Noah and finds himself attracted to their new friend and third roommate Adam Parrish.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> NO CDTH SPOILERS I’m sure this is the worst possible time to be publishing this with everyone reading CDTH. But I'm done CDTH and don't want to drive myself up a wall with theories. And I have this story all drafted out. I'm not sure how many chapters it will be, because, tbh, sometimes I just can't stop writing these two together and it ends up longer than I wanted it to be.

**A Love Story in Three Acts**

Act. I

_They Meet_

Gansey rocked back and forth on his feet while he waited for Blue to take off her gloves, scarf, and heavy coat. Winter had come early and harsh to D.C. this year. It was December 1st and it had already snowed twice, only dustings, but it wasn't even Christmas yet.

"Did you order already?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said. "Few minutes ago."

The cold air that had clung to her made him shiver when she kissed him. 

"I hope you remembered to order extra Szechuan string beans for me," she said. "I'm starved."

"I know Ronan Lynch and he's coming here for dinner tonight," Gansey blurted out, let out a heavy sigh, and collapsed on the nearest chair, a brown leather recliner that looked old, but had only been bought at Restoration Hardware five years ago when Gansey first moved in.

Blue laughed for a second, until she saw that he was serious. "Wait... what?"

"Ronan. Lynch. I know him. Since we were kids. He's in town, and I told him to come by for dinner."

Pointing at the dark hardwood floor, she said, "Here? In this house?"

"Yes."

"Ronan Lynch. Wait?" She narrowed her eyes. "Is this like some other guy named Ronan Lynch and this is a joke you play on all of your new girlfriends?"

"No! You're not _that_ new. And really, I haven't had that many girlfriends - new or otherwise. And, well... yeah, none that I introduced to Ronan. I was worried you'd be upset that I hadn't told you sooner."

"Oh my god. You're serious. You really do know Ronan Lynch." She sat down on sofa, also bought five years, from where, Gansey didn't know. His sister Helen bought it and it looked new and modern, silver gray, with sleek chrome legs. He liked his brown leather chair better. 

"I do. He's my best friend."

"Wow. That's... I don't know... I'm trying to wrap my head around this. I mean what I know of you and what I know of _him_ it doesn't really fit to think of you two as friends."

"He's not... I knew Ronan long before the version of Ronan that the public knows."

"You mean the spoiled actor who gets into fights with paps, staggers out of nightclubs at five in the morning, and, every so often, has his mugshot, from his latest DUI, plastered on the front of every trash magazine. You're talking about that version?"

He winced at the harsh memories of watching his friend fall apart in a very public way. "He hasn't been that..." Gansey searched for the right word: angry, toxic, sad, reckless. "He hasn't been like that for a few years. Two years nine months and some days to be exact. " She looked taken aback by his exactness. "I helped him get his act together."

"Oh. You really are close."

"I was going to tell you about him. It's just -"

"I get it. He's famous. You were trying to protect him."

Of course, she 'got it'. He got up and sat next to her on the sofa that okay he just didn't not like, he really hated. He grabbed her hand and kissed the top of it. 

"So does Noah know him too?"

"Yeah. Noah was at Aglionby with us. A few years ahead, but he'd got assigned as Ronan's 'big brother' when we were freshman. That's how we met him. Most seniors abandoned their little brothers after the first week, but Noah really helped Ronan out. It wasn't easy being the son of a famous actor. Noah protected Ronan the best he could."

"What about Adam?"

"I haven't told him yet. Ronan hasn't been in town since Adam moved in. And today's visit was unexpected. I only heard from him a few hours ago." He looked at his watch. "I thought Adam would be home by now."

"What time is Ronan supposed to get here?"

"He didn't give an exact time, but I suspect soon."

"Cool. But, you didn't answer me. Did you remember the extra string beans?"

"You're amazing," Gansey said. He hated when someone pestered him about his relationship with Ronan. Back in college, a photo of Ronan and him had been posted to a popular gossip site. Word spread around campus, and Gansey had spent months under an avalanche of questions about Ronan, even from the faculty. Blue's casual nature about it only solidified his growing feelings for her. "I'll get you all of the string beans that you ever want."

"Okayyyyy," she said, leaning in for a kiss. 

The doorbell rang. "It's probably the food," Gansey said, standing up. 

When he opened the front door, the first thing that hit him was a blast of cold air. The second was the sound of angry voices, an unusual sound on his normally quiet Georgetown street. Without a word, the delivery guy handed him the bags and ran back to his car that was blocking the street. Gansey looked down the block and saw two people standing in the dark several houses away, one on the curb, the other standing between two parked cars. He thought that it wasn't any of his business and started to close the door when he recognized one of the voices. 

"I don't want _more_ money. I don't want _any_ money." 

Gansey walked down the steps to the sidewalk. 

"Listen, man, there's no need to be a dick about this. I offered to pay for your bike, even though _you_ hit _my_ car."

Gansey knew that voice too. This wasn't good. He jogged down the street, listening to the reply. "I hit _you_? I was in the bike lane. You're supposed to check for bikes before you swing your door open!"

"Hey... hey," Gansey said, approaching the angry men. "Hey - hi, Adam - Ronan. What's going on?"

"You know this guy?" Adam asked, turning to him, and Gansey noticed a scrap on the side of his jaw and Adam's bike on the ground, the wheel bent. 

"Shit, Adam. Are you okay?" Gansey looked Adam up and down. One knee of Adam's jeans was ripped and dirty. 

"I'm fine."

"Hey, Gans," Ronan said. "This a friend of yours?"

Gansey stepped up and hugged Ronan. Ronan patted his back twice and stepped back. He said, "I'm not drunk or anything else."

"I didn't think you were," Gansey said. 

"I'm just setting the record straight because your friend here, who was riding a bike in the goddamn dark, accused me of it. And who the fuck rides a bike in thirty-fucking-degree weather?"

Adam glared at Ronan as he spoke. "After hitting me, this guy tries the bullshit 'don't you know who I am' line and offers me ten times what my bike is worth, if I don't call the cops. Of course, I suspected that he'd been drinking. Why else wouldn't he want me to call the cops?"

Gansey looked around to see if anyone was outside or looking out of their windows. They had to move this inside before someone does call the cops or, worse, starts recording it to sell to a gossip site.

"I'm sure it was an accident," Gansey said, hurriedly, putting his hand on Adam's elbow. "Why don't we go inside and talk about it there?"

"Well, I don't know who you are," Adam continued, "or why you're afraid of the cops, but…" He looked at Gansey and his face softened a bit. "If you're a friend of Gansey -"

"He's fucking with me, right?" Ronan looked from Adam to Gansey back to Adam, his mouth hanging open. 

"No…" Gansey was pretty sure that Adam was not "fucking" with him. He spotted a couple walking down the street. "Really, let's talk about this inside."

Gansey picked up Adam's bike intending to take it inside for him, but Adam grabbed it and brought it inside himself. None of them spoke until they were in the house. The moment the door closed behind them, Ronan asked, "You really don't know who I am?" Adam ignored him and rolled his bike under the stairs in its usual parking spot. Ronan couldn't stop staring at him. 

Blue was standing there looking concerned. "Um, Jane this is –"

"Seriously," Adam interrupted, "if you think that works on me, you're sadly mistaken. It doesn't matter who you are. You were at fault and then you were rude about it."

Ronan went off like a firecracker. "Rude? I offered to buy you a new bike!"

"You offered me five-thousand dollars. A bike isn't worth that."

"A good one is!"

"Now, that's classic Ronan Lynch."

Adam and Blue jumped as Noah appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, behind them. 

"Fuck you, dickface," Ronan said, embracing Noah. 

While they patted each other's backs, Noah, over Ronan's shoulder said, "Adam, that scrape looks badass. Looks like you got into a fight."

In the light, Adam's injuries were more apparent. Besides the scrap on his face, there was blood on his jeans where they were ripped, and the palm of his right hand was scrapped up as well.

"Listen, man - Adam," Ronan said. "Are you really hurt? I can drive you to a hospital."

Adam's eyebrow quirked up, slightly. "Are you going to admit that it was your fault?"

"No. Because it wasn't. Doesn't mean I don't want to assist someone when they're in need help."

"Yeah. Thanks, but I don't need a hospital."

"Why don't we all take a minute here? And I can do some introductions. Ronan Lynch this is Adam Parrish and –"

"Blue Sargent." Blue stepped closer to Adam. Gansey sensed some sort of sides were being drawn. 

"Parrish. Sargent," Ronan said, nodding towards them and smiling, an odd thing amongst Gansey and Noah. If you didn't know him, it looked perfectly natural. If you did know him, you knew that it wasn't his smile that he was showing off; it was his father's. Ronan had learned Niall Lynch’s most charming mannerisms and took them on and off like a costume. 

Neither of them looked impressed.

"Come on, Adam," Blue said, grabbing Adam's hand. "Let's get you taken care of." She gave Gansey a pointed look that he thought he should know what she was wordlessly trying to tell him, but he didn't have a clue.

They all watched the two of them walk up the stairs. When they were out of sight, Ronan said, "That's the new roommate - the Parrish guy from Henrietta - the one you haven't shut the fuck about for like a year?"

Gansey nodded and suddenly realized he was still holding the food bags. He walked to the dining room, Ronan and Noah following.

"And he really doesn't know who I am?"

"Adam's, um..." Gansey searched for the word.

"A fucking genius," Noah said. "And doesn't bother with mundane and nonsensical things."

Ronan punched Noah in the arm. "Gee, thanks, Czerny. I'm mundane and nonsensical."

Gansey laughed. "I would've put it more eloquently."

"I'm sure you would've, Dick," Ronan said, pulling off his leather jacket and throwing it on a chair. 

Gansey and Noah took the food containers out of the bag and laid them on the dining room table, which looked old because it was old. His grandfather Richard Campbell I, who Gansey had inherited the house from, bought it at an estate sale. It's rumored to have been once owned by one of the Kennedy's. Gansey could never remember which one. 

"Adam's..." Again, Gansey struggled. It's hard to explain Adam without talking about Adam's background, and Gansey didn't feel that was his story to tell. "Adam's very academic. He probably hasn't seen a movie in years."

Noah, his mouth full of an egg roll, shook his head. He swallowed. "He doesn't even have a TV in his room." He grabbed another egg roll, but Ronan snatched it out of his hand. 

Gansey grinned at them. It felt good to have them all together, joking, rolling around, like old times. It was especially good to see Ronan looking so comfortable and, most importantly, healthy. 

"So, what happened with Jane?" Ronan asked.

"Um, nothing."

"Did I fuck up her name? Are you dating Blue and someone else?"

"Oh, no - sorry, yeah, that is Jane."

Noah said, "Jane is Blue. Blue is Jane."

Ronan shrugged. "Whatever." He threw a hot mustard packet at Gansey. "Fucking weirdo."

Gansey sat down and opened up a container of wonton soup. Noah went to the kitchen, bringing back utensils, plates, and bowls. When he sat down, he asked Ronan, "How long are you staying in D.C.?"

"Yeah, I need to talk to you about that," Ronan said. "I'm here to shoot a movie, but we're trying to keep it quiet that I'm in it. It's sort of, um - sort of something different than what I usually do. It's an indie project. We just don't want the press and the gossip sites to get a hold of it until it's done and ready for release."

" That's great," Gansey said. "I'm glad you're doing something new."

"I can't stay at a hotel or rent something, someone will release it to the press, _but_, if I'm staying with friends, it's a better chance that it doesn't get out and, if it does, I can say I'm just here to visit with friends and family."

"You want to stay here with us," Gansey clarified. 

"Yeah. If it's okay?" Ronan looked at Noah.

Gansey frowned. "Why are you even asking? You know you can stay here when and for however long you want?"

"Yeah," Noah mumbled with a mouthful of food. "I didn't ask."

"If I remember the story correctly, Gansey didn't even know you were living here for over a month."

"It wasn't a month," Gansey argued. "How long?"

"Several weeks."

"You'd spend Christmas here then?" Gansey asked, hopeful.

"Yeah. Nothing in LA for me anyway."

"Great," Gansey said. "Really, really great." He smiled at Ronan, until he saw Ronan's eyes shift towards something that might be happiness. Gansey thought of something important. "But we have to check with Adam about you staying here."

Noah chuckled. 

"Shut up, asshole," Ronan growled. 

"Ronan Lynch the absolute, unarguably King of Fucking Awful First Impressions."

"Who the fuck rides a bike in the freezing cold? That's what I want to know."

"Adam does," Gansey replied. "And it doesn't matter when he was riding the bike. You hit him with your door. You should apologize - with _sincerity_."

"He hit my door!"

"Semantics," Gansey said, waving his hand. "I know you. And I know you flung that door open without even glancing in your side mirror." Ronan shrugged, which meant he had no argument with that. "I see you have the BMW. You were home?"

"This afternoon. Not long though."

"Matthew bring you?"

"Declan. Flew into JFK to throw the paps off. He picked me up there. "

"Your life sucks, dude," Noah said.

"Yeah. Riding in the car with Declan was pure hell."

Noah laughed, and Gansey rolled his eyes.

Ronan looked over his shoulder. "What are they doing up there anyway? Surgery? It was a few scrapes."

"Belittling his injuries isn't going to win you any friends," Noah pointed out.

"Neither is eating all the food," Gansey said, grabbing the veggie fried rice container from Ronan's hands. When Ronan reached for the container of Szechuan beans, Gansey grabbed them out from under him too. "Eat the pork lo mein. Jane and Adam don't eat meat."

"Of-fucking-course, he is," Ronan said. "Parrish is a fucking save-the-planet-freak."

~ ~ ~

Adam and Blue went up to the third floor into Adam's bedroom. Adam ranted as he pulled clothes out of the dresser. "Honestly, Blue. Rich people think they can buy their way out of everything." Blue sat on the bed fiddling on her phone. "I'm still not certain that he wasn't drinking. There was damage to his car. You'd think he'd want to file an insurance claim. What are you doing?"

She handed him the phone. "Press play."

It was a YouTube video. Adam did as he’d been told and a trailer for an action movie began to play. The music was loud and annoying. It had everything Adam would expect to see in one of those types of movies: a car chase, a car exploding, someone jumping out of a plane, someone walking out of a burning building… _Oh_. That was the guy downstairs walking - no swaggering - out of the fire, dirty, bleeding and very much without a shirt. The trailer continued to show scenes, every one with Ronan in it, either fighting someone beautiful or kissing someone beautiful or rolling around in the bed with someone (or someones) beautiful or saying something clever, clipped, and sarcastic. The screen went black and the name "Ronan Lynch" appeared as a deep, baritone voice said, "The Doomsday Clock, starring Ronan Lynch, the #1 box office action hero in the world."

The first and last name put together did bring up a memory for Adam, but not of the really tall, strikingly handsome man downstairs, but of a young boy with unruly, curly black hair, standing at his parent's funeral, holding a crying, small blond boy in his arms. He'd seen the photo while waiting in the checkout line at the grocery store when him and the boy were around the same age. The magazines on the rack had usually gone ignored, but that photo had captured his attention. The look on that boy's - Ronan's face had haunted Adam back then, had made Adam feel uncomfortable and sad in a way that he didn't understand. Maybe it'd been because Adam couldn't understand that sort of grief or maybe it'd been because Adam couldn't understand the sort of love that had to exist first to cause that sort of grief. 

"I remember now. His mother and father were famous actors, right? They lived near us."

"Yeah. Singer's Falls."

"Okay. Yeah. I remember it now. A stalker murdered both his parents in their home." He handed the phone back to her, then took off his jeans, without any shame in front of Blue. They'd spent months together living in a tent while doing research. They’d seen a lot more of each other. He sat on the bed to study the wound on his knee. "I didn't know what'd happened to him. I don't really watch action movies."

"He's been in a few romcoms too." When he didn't say anything, she added, "Romantic comedies."

"I don't watch those either."

"I know. He did a music video once too. I'm just giving you some background. You should watch one of his movies. They're mindless, fun, and..." She elbowed him. "He's super hot."

He stood up, pulling on a pair of shorts because Noah kept turning the heat up to eighty-five. "I guess."

"You guess? Bullshit, Adam Parrish. I saw your face when you were watching that trailer." She mimicked wiping drool off her chin and laughed when he rolled his eyes at her. As Adam pulled on an old faded crimson red Harvard sweatshirt, she went back to watching the trailer. "He's so tall. Taller than you. And brooding. Is that your type? What is your type?"

_Tall. Really tall. Pale blue eyes. Broad shoulders._

"Not entitled rich assholes."

She turned the trailer on again. "I can't decide if I like him with a tux on or with it off. Or how about with the tux pants on and no shirt?

"Stop. It's weird when he's just downstairs and a friend of Gansey's."

"Are you telling me to stop objectifying him because he's a real person with real feelings?"

"Well, I don't know about the feelings bit yet." 

They both laughed as they went to the hallway bathroom. Blue sat on the toilet as he cleaned the scraps. They really weren't that bad. The only one that needed serious attention was the one on his knee. 

"All kidding aside," she said. "I trust Gansey and Gansey says he's alright now, but he used to be a lot of trouble."

"What kind of trouble?"

"Drugs. Partying. Racing cars. Fights. Getting arrested. And then there was his very toxic and public relationship with Kavinsky."

"Kavinsky?"

"Kavinsky - singer? Infamous for his controversial lyrics, concerts that ended up in riots, and generally just existing to be a nasty dick?"

Adam shook his head.

"Anyway. They dated on and off for years. Had paps - you do know what paps are, right?"

"Yes. I know what paps are."

"They had paps on them practically 24/7. A sex tape of theirs was leaked a few years ago and -"

"Oh, wait. He's _out_? Isn't that a big deal in Hollywood?"

"Yep. That's been one positive thing he's done. He really broke down barriers. After his first major box office hit, there were all these rumors that he was dating his female costar. Everyone was obsessed with it. The media really played it up. Tweens were swooning over them. And then Lynch responded by bringing a guy to the Golden Globes and full on making out with him on the red carpet. Shut it all right down. One of his movies even had him romantically paired with a man. It was a big deal."

"Do you think the sex tape leaking was intentional?"

"I don't think so. It got put on some really gross porn site, uncut and uncensored. Lynch took legal action and got it taken down, but it's the internet. It'll always be out there somewhere."

"Did you...?" 

"No - no." She scrunched up her face. "It's - it's disgusting knowing that the person in the video didn't consent to being watched by millions of people."

"That had to be humiliating for him."

"It must be so weird to have your life out there like that."

"You think he's still trouble?"

"I don't know. Gansey said he's different, and... and now that I think about it, it has been forever since I've heard any gossip about him."

"I'm surprised at you, Blue. That you follow this stuff."

"I really don't! It's comments on Facebook and Twitter, people at work talking about it, or hearing it mentioned on the news. It's just out there, you know. Well, you don't. I really don't understand how you can filter so much out of your life."

"I'm just focused on other things." He closed the medicine cabinet door and washed his hands. 

She stood up. "I'm sorry that Lynch hurt you though. People really should be more careful when opening their doors!"

"I was angrier that he didn't bother to ask if I was hurt. First thing he asked me was not to call the cops, but now I see why he asked that. It would've ended up as a gossip story."

"Yeah. I'm sure it would've, and it would've dragged you into it too. So, maybe, you can say he did you a favor?"

"I wouldn't go that far, Blue."

Smiling, she tugged on his wrist. "Let's go. I'm starved."

As they descended the stairs, Adam heard his friends and Ronan talking in the dining room. 

"Eat the pork lo mein. Jane and Adam don't eat meat."

"Of-fucking-course, he is. Parrish is a fucking save-the-planet-freak."

Blue breezed into the room. "He's not just your average save-the-planet-freak." She grabbed a container of string beans and chopsticks and sat next to Gansey, tucking one leg under her, giving Ronan her 'look.' "Well, technically, he's a save-the-forests-freak and he's a professional one at that."

Adam stood in the doorway feeling awkward. He was still a bit angry about earlier, but Ronan clearly meant something to Gansey and Noah. He was the new guy in the roommate trio. The outsider. He didn't want to be the wet blanket and stop everyone from having a good time. So, he shrugged it off and took the only empty seat next to Ronan, who seemed to be deliberately not looking at him.

~ ~ ~

_Of course, this guy Parrish was right behind me when I insulted him. Again._

Gansey had seen an opening to gush about Parrish and his girlfriend and he took it. "Last year, Adam and Blue spent nine months in the Brazilian rain forest." Gansey beamed. "They work together. They received a huge grant from Georgetown to study Ecology and Natural Resources. Jane's a botanist and Adam's an ecologist, studying for his doctorate. They've done great work in…." 

Ronan tuned Gansey out and turned to Parrish. His eyes looked an incredible blue now. Ronan's stomach fluttered with a long-lost sensation he'd hadn't felt since his teenaged years. A feeling that he'd left behind, along with a lot of other things, when he moved to Hollywood. He looked away. "You're trying to save the forests?"

"That makes it sound simple - it's a lot more complicated than that, but, yeah, basically."

"Cool. I like forests." 

_I like forests. Smooth, Lynch. Smooth._

Ronan cracked open a fortune cookie, throwing the tiny slip of paper aside and shoving the entire thing in his mouth to save himself from saying anything else stupid.

Blue Jeans or Jane or whatever her name was grabbed it. She then took a fortune cookie and gave one to each of them. "Take the paper out and give it to me. Don't read it though."

"Why?" Adam asked.

"It's a game. That's all. I'm going to read them and decide on your fortune."

"Jane's family are psychics."

_Oh, for fuck's sake._ She was a weirdo. No wonder Gansey was smitten with her. Two weirdos. 

It sounded stupid, but, for some reason, the rest of them did it. Blue read them. The first person she handed one to was Adam. He read it and rolled his eyes. "Subtle, Blue."

Gansey went next and smiled. "I like this one. Thank you, Jane." He kissed her cheek. Noah made a gagging noise.

Ronan laughed. "I get it now. You really are a fucking weirdo, Dick."

"Get what?" Noah asked.

"He calls her Jane because he thinks it's clever." Noah looked at him, waiting for more. "Dick and Jane."

"Ohhhh..." Noah shook the egg roll in his hand. "That makes sense." Grinning, he dipped it in hot mustard sauce and took a bite.

Adam leaned forward to look at Noah passed Ronan. "You really didn't get that before?"

"You're gonna judge me, Parrish? You didn't know who," he pointed the half-eaten egg roll at Ronan, "that was. I can't go a day without seeing his ugly mug somewhere. Saw it on the side of a bus just this morning. Now, give me my fortune, please."

"With pleasure," Blue said, handing him the paper.

He read his aloud, "The wise man is the one that makes you think that he is dumb." He winked at her. "Good one."

"That's not a fortune," Ronan said. 

"They're not always fortunes," Gansey pointed out. "I like the ones that are inspirational."

"What'd yours say?" Ronan asked him.

Gansey had folded the paper and put it in his breast pocket. He left it there. "It is easy to govern a kingdom but difficult to rule one's family."

"What about yours?" he gave a quick glance at Parrish, who had a mouthful of fried rice. He swallowed and looked at the slip. "Don't worry about money. The best things in life are free."

Ronan huffed. "That's the bullshit rich people feed poor people to keep them from burning everything the fuck down."

"Hell yeah," Blue said.

"Power to the people," Noah chimed in.

Ronan held out his hand. "Don't I get one?"

"Sure." She handed him his fortune.

He read it and glared at her. "You set this up."

"I did not," she said.

"Come on. I'm not stupid."

"I didn't!" Blue protested. "What do you think I carry spare fortune cookie fortunes around with me?"

"What does it say?" Adam asked.

Ronan handed it to him. Adam's laugh filled the room. Ronan didn't realize he was smiling as well until he caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror that hung on the opposite wall. He slammed his own, rightfully earned, infamous, fifteen-million-dollar-a-movie scowl back on. 

Adam read it to everyone, "It takes courage to admit fault."

They all laughed, and Ronan made a low sound in his throat that could be a chuckle or a growl. He looked at Adam in the mirror, smiling, and felt his stomach turn upside down again. _Fuck._ He changed the subject.

"Parrish, I'm here to shoot a movie, and I'd like to stay here while I do it."

"In D.C.?"

"In this house?"

"Oh."

When Ronan realized Adam was going to make him ask it, he looked at Gansey, hoping he'd do it for him, but Dick the Third was talking to Blue Jane and not paying attention to him. He turned to Noah, but his chair was empty. _Creepy fuck._

"Is it okay if I stay here?"

"Starting when?"

"Um, tonight."

"How long?"

"I can't give an exact time. We're here to shoot on location. Location shooting is unpredictable."

"I'm sure. Weather and everything."

"Crowds. Traffic. Yeah. It's a pain in the ass. But it would be at least six weeks."

"So, from now until mid-January?"

"Yeah. And me shooting this movie is being kept quiet. I need discretion about my whereabouts."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why is it being kept quiet?"

_Jesus Christ, this guy._ "It's something different than what I usually do. We're just hoping to keep the press away from it until it's ready for release."

"What would happen if people find out you're staying here with us?"

"Lots of people hanging around out front. Like paps, autographs hounds, fans."

"What are the chances that will happen?"

"For fuck's..." He took in a deep breath. Reminded himself that he was trying not to be a dick. "I'll be extra cautious."

"The spare bedroom is on the third floor with mine. I work hard, and I'm working on my dissertation. I need sleep when I can get it. And we'll have to share a bathroom."

"No wild parties in the room. No loud sex. No farm animals." Parrish raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing. "Got it. And I won't be here that much. We're going to have a lot of night shoots. We'll probably be passing each other by like ships passing in the night." Adam didn't say anything. Ronan added. "I promise I'll knock before I enter the bathroom."

"Sure. It's okay with me then."

He really didn't know what to think of Parrish. On one hand, he was a real fucking pain in the ass. A hot pain in the ass, but a pain in the ass nonetheless. On the other, Ronan had to respect him. He had to have known that Gansey and Noah were okay with it, but instead of simply going along with his friends, which most people would've done, he made up his own mind. 

Adam grabbed a pair of chopsticks to eat broccoli out of a container. Out of the corner of his eye, Ronan watched his long lean fingers control the sticks with expert ease. He wondered what else this Parrish guy could control with his hands. This was not good. Ronan had to focus on this movie. He could not get distracted. 

He stood abruptly. "I need to get my overnight bag."

"Hey, no," Gansey said. "You're supposed to be lying low. I'll grab it."

"It's twenty feet. In. The. Dark. Dick." 

Gansey opened his mouth, but Ronan ran out before Gansey could say anything else. 

The street was quiet. It really was cold. Ronan's blood had thinned after all the years in LA. He should have brought some clothes from The Barns. He hadn't thought of it. While he was there, the only thing that he could think about was _not_ thinking about what had happened to his parents and thinking a lot about how bad he needed a drink. And, since he couldn't have a drink, he'd picked a fight with Declan instead. It'd been a minor fight, probably the sort even normal brothers with healthy coping mechanisms had, but it'd worked, and, unless he falls apart in the next few hours, he made it another day without drinking. 

None of his old clothes would probably fit him anyway. 

Back inside, he found Gansey and Blue in the kitchen cleaning up. He saw some containers still on the dining room table and retrieved them to look like he was helping. Parrish was nowhere to be seen. He hung around, listening to them talk about some historical exhibit - something about dead kings - they were attending this weekend, until it felt awkward. He looked at the clock on the microwave. It was eight, which meant his internal clock felt like it was five. He was tired from the red eye and the emotional reaction of being home, but he wasn't that tired to go to sleep. He wondered where Czerny had gone.

"Hey." Noah stood at the entry to the kitchen. "Call of Duty?"

Ronan didn't know how Noah did the things he did, and, right now, he didn't care. 

"Yes!" He grabbed his bag from the floor where'd dropped it. "Let me run this upstairs."

He jogged up to the third floor, taking the steps two at a time. He got to the top and realized that he didn't know which bedroom was Parrish's. The last time he'd stayed here, both were empty. At the top of the stairs was the bathroom. The door was closed, and Ronan could hear water running. On either side of the door was a bedroom. The lights were off in both. He picked the right and turned on the light. The room had a double bed, a nightstand with a small light, and a dresser with a matching mirror over it. The walls were bare and there was nothing on any of the surfaces. 

Ronan dropped his black leather duffel bag on the bed and unzipped it. He hadn't packed much in it. His toiletries, clean underwear and clean t-shirt. On top of all it was the script for the movie. He took it out and let it drop on the bed.

"Excuse me. This is my room."

Parrish was standing in the doorway, arms crossed. 

Ronan looked around the room again. "Jesus, Parrish. Get some flowers or something. I've seen hospital rooms look more homey."

Parrish raised an eyebrow. "Flowers?"

"You know. A fucking plant."

"I didn't know you were an interior designer _and_ an action star." Adam's smirk was slight, just a slight rise on the left side of his mouth. It was the kind of smirk you wanted to punch or kiss off someone's face. Ronan really wished he only wanted to punch this guy. 

"Hey. I've done romantic comedies too." He put the script back in his bag. "And a horror movie."

"Did you survive the whole film?"

"Nah. Got offed in the last ten minutes." He brushed by Parrish on his way out. Maybe a little bit on purpose. "The chick's always the sole survivor."

"Remember," Parrish called after him. "No farm animals."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure you're all off reading CDTH! I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. FYI: there will NOT be any spoilers for it this fic. This chapter got away with me and is much longer than I expected. I love them and really enjoy writing them.

**A Love Story in Three Acts**

Act. I

_They Meet_

The next morning, Adam headed downstairs, just after five a.m., with his research notebook in hand, wearing flannel pajama bottoms, thick wool socks, and a t-shirt he'd gotten last year when he’d went with Gansey and Noah to Virginia Beach for a weekend. After all the years of getting up early for work or to study, he couldn't sleep past six, at the latest. Even though today was Saturday, and he didn't _officially_ need to be anywhere, it didn't mean it was a day off. On top of what he'd planned for the day, now, because of Ronan Lynch, he had to see about getting his bike fixed. This was going to back up his schedule into next week. He considered for a moment what he could get done tomorrow but stopped to remind himself that Sundays were his day off. Something he'd reluctantly promised to do at his therapist's urging. 

“You're not promising me, Adam,” his therapist had said. “You're promising _yourself_.”

A few sessions after he'd made that promise, his therapist asked him if he found that his day off was helping. He'd told her that it was indeed helping. Taking the day off to recharge had caused his productivity to increase by almost eight percent.

They've spent the last four months working on not defining his self-worth and happiness by his productivity. 

When he reached the landing, he heard a rhythmic banging and was surprised to smell coffee. He'd expected to be the only one up at this hour. Sometimes, Gansey would still be awake, inside his study, toying with his miniature replica of medieval Cardiff, Wales. But Blue had stayed over last night, which meant they wouldn't emerge from his room until they were ready to leave for whatever event they'd planned for the day. And it certainly wasn't Noah. He didn't get up before noon on the weekends. He guessed it was Ronan Lynch. And he was right. He found Ronan in the kitchen.

The kitchen was modern with stark white cabinets, a gray granite countertop, and the floors the same dark hardwood that ran through the rest of the house. Ronan sat on the kitchen counter, even though there were four, perfectly good, barstools lined up along the kitchen's island and the dining room table was only fifteen or so feet away, banging his bare feet against the cabinets. Adam could hear the thumping of the music from the AirPods he had in his ears. He was scowling at the iPad resting on his lap and fiddling with the leather bands on his wrist. 

Adam took a moment to study him and compare him to the photos he'd viewed online last night, when his curiosity had gotten the best of him and he'd googled 'Ronan Lynch'. He'd only viewed images and stayed away from reading any gossip. There had been hundreds of pages of photos: from the child who was the son of two famous actors; to the young man who showed up in Hollywood angry and rebellious, eyes hard, mouth always in a scowl, often drunk or maybe high; to the present man, sitting before him. There had been a recent photo of Ronan, taken a few weeks ago at a premiere of a movie. He'd looked stunning and polished in a dark blue tuxedo. Adam had noticed right away that he looked different in it, but he couldn't put his finger on what. His head was still shaved. His eyes were still an icy, pale blue that complimented his dark hair and pale skin. There was still a scar cutting through his left eyebrow. And he still was incredibly handsome in a way that made Adam's insides ache.

Adam waved his hand over the iPad. Ronan startled. He stared at Adam, looking confused, like he'd forgotten who he was. He took the earphones out of his ears. “Fuck, dude. Didn't realize it was this late... or early. Shit. I don't know.”

Adam dropped his notebook on the island. “You didn't sleep?” 

“No. Damn time change’s got me all screwed up.” He waved at the coffeemaker. “That's a fresh pot.”

Adam stood a few feet directly in front of Ronan. He pointed at the mug next to Ronan's thigh. “You're using my mug.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“You can't use another mug.”

“I can. But you're in my way.”

“Oh,” Ronan replied, smirking. He leaned over onto his right hip, so Adam could reach by him to get a mug. Adam's arm was so close to Ronan he could feel his body heat. He grabbed a plain blue mug from the cabinet and went to pour coffee into it. When he turned back around, he briefly caught Ronan's gaze, before Ronan looked away.

_Strange._ He could've sworn that Ronan Lynch had been looking at him with interest. But that couldn't be. No. He had to be wrong. Adam was just Adam. He knew he wasn't unattractive. He had his fair share of dates - when he wanted them. But he certainly wasn't up to any Hollywood standard. He didn't look like any of the gorgeous people he'd seen in any of those photos.

But it had made Adam realize what was different. _It's his eyes._ In those photos, Adam had seen eyes that were hard, cold, confident that the world deserved his anger and hate. Now, he saw something else, eyes that were softer. Lynch was still an electrifying, charismatic force of nature, but he seemed to be looking at the world now like he was trying to figure it all out.

“So, what's the magician about?” Ronan asked, holding up Adam's mug with a picture of The Magician tarot card on it.

“It's just a thing.”

“What kind of thing?”

“It was a gift from Blue.”

“But _why_ a magician?”

“It's a thing between us.”

“A _thing_ between you?”

“No - not like that.” Adam knew he was being closed off and awkward. But small talk with strangers wasn't really his thing. “Sorry - um. She calls me the Magician because I like to solve difficult problems. And...”

“And?”

“Remember what Gansey said last night about her family being psychics?”

Ronan nodded.

“They do readings for me sometimes. And that's the card they always pull for me.”

“Really?” Ronan laughed. “I didn't take you for the kind of person to believe in hocus-pocus.”

Adam huffed and went to a cabinet, not blocked by a movie star, to grab his Pop Tarts. He was trying to be nice to this guy for Gansey and Noah, but he was not making it easy.

“Just mean you seem practical and tarot cards and psychics aren't. You're a scientist, right?” Adam tore open the wrapper and ignored him. “Am I wrong?”

“Yes. No. I _am_ practical. Sometimes - most of the time.” Adam put his breakfast in the toaster over and closed the door with more force than needed.

“But you get tarot readings. You can see where I'm confused here, Parrish.” Lynch had a point. Believing in things like tarot readings was very much outside his normal way of thinking. Before meeting Blue freshman year of college, he would've been outright offended if someone had thought he believed in psychic powers. 

_Maybe I'm being unfair._ “Yes. I believe in science and facts, but... but there's things that I think we can't explain. Like always pulling,” he tapped the picture on the mug, “this card when in readings.”

“A trick. People like that know how to -”

“I bought my own cards, and they did it with those too.”

“You own your own deck of tarot cards?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “I can read them too.” He sensed Ronan was staring at him. He turned and caught his gaze before he could look away again. It was a challenge. “Don't you believe in any sort of magic?”

Their eyes held onto each other's for a few beats. Adam's pulse quickened. Maybe it wasn't a challenge. Maybe it was an invitation. 

“Dunno. Maybe. Once.” Ronan diverted his eyes and rubbed the back of his head. Whatever connection had been in that brief moment had been broken. “Sometimes, I think Noah can make himself invisible.”

Adam laughed as he slid his warm strawberry Pop Tarts onto a plate. “Right? I don't know how he does.”

“There it is.”

“There what is?”

Ronan said, “That accent.” The words came out surrounded by a laugh. Adam felt a lifetime of shame explode in him. “Gansey said you were from Henrietta.”

And there it was. The truth. Adam had been a fool for thinking, even for a second, that someone like Ronan Lynch could find someone like him - trailer park trash - attractive. He hadn't been looking at him because he was attracted to him; he'd been assessing him, determining if Adam was in the same social class as him. 

“I am,” Adam said stiffly. He sat down, took a bite of a Pop Tart, and opened up his notebook. Lynch had already caused a blip in his schedule and hadn't even apologized for it. He wasn't going to let him take another moment of his time.

Lynch hopped off the counter and leaned over the island, looking at Adam's notebook. “Is that, um, for your research?”

Adam sighed and looked up at him. This time Adam's gaze was defiant and rejecting. “Yes. I have a lot of work to do because I need to take my bike in for repairs today - something that I hadn't planned on. So, if you don't mind?”

For a brief moment, Adam thought he saw a flicker of hurt in Lynch's eyes before he said, “Yeah. Whatever,” and, in an impressive performance, especially for someone barefoot, Lynch stomped out of the kitchen.

~ ~ ~

Ronan left the kitchen feeling like an asshole. Though, he had no idea what he'd done that made him an asshole. One minute, they were having a moment, or so he thought, and he was practically swooning over Parrish's accent, and, the next, Parrish is looking at him like he's insignificant and worthless. He'd been a fool to think, even for a second, that someone as smart as Parrish could find someone like him - a high school dropout - interesting. Noah had said Parrish was a genius, but he was a genius-genius. Not just smart like Gansey or Declan. Those equations written in his notebook were a whole other level of smart. A guy, with a brain like that, would never be interested in a loser like him.

_Fuck_. He didn't like the affect this guy was having over him. He didn't like the fact that he wanted Parrish to like him. He didn't like that when Parrish had walked into the kitchen this morning, looking perfectly gorgeous and sleep-tousled and _warm_ that his heart had practically leapt out of his chest and into Adam's elegant, lean hands. 

_Get a fucking hold of yourself, Lynch._ He didn't have time to process these feelings he was having and work on this movie. This project was too damn important to have him fall down a rabbit hole filled with insecurities because some guy, who he'd just met, rejected him. He didn't really know anything about Parrish. He might be seeing someone. He might not be into guys. He might be a _Republican_.

In his room, exhausted, he stripped down to his black boxer briefs, closed the blinds tight, and slid into bed. He checked his phone for the first time since last night and saw messages from his brothers, Matthew and Declan, his agent, and his PA. He texted everyone back, except Declan. Matthew first, then his PA, then not Declan, then his agent, and then not Declan again. Before he was done texting his agent, his PA got back to him and said he'd be stopping by with Ronan's clothes and things early in the afternoon. He set an alarm, turned on his favorite playlist and put in his earbuds, and settled down in the bed, pulling the covers up to his nose.

_One thousand and twenty-one days._

If he made it through today without a drink, it will be one thousand and twenty-one days plus one.

~ ~ ~

When Parrish left the brownstone with his bike, Ronan was in the kitchen inspecting the pathetic contents of the pantry and the refrigerator. Lloyd, his PA, and Finn, his driver and bodyguard, had been there and gone, his things already in his room, waiting for him to unpack them. If he leaned forward, just a little bit, he had a line of sight into the hallway where he could see Parrish, already bundled up in his coat and hat, carrying his bike towards the front door. Parrish left and Ronan went back to opening closets and banging the doors shut, while trying to ignore the nagging feeling churning in his gut. He could hear his therapist's voice in his head, _'Take responsibilities for your actions, Ronan. Apologize when you're wrong. Make amends when appropriate.'_

_Fuck me._ This wasn't about wanting Parrish to like him, he told himself, this was about trying not to be an asshole.

Less than an hour later, after a phone call from Ronan, Lloyd and Finn were back at the front door with bags of groceries and a brand-new commuter bike. Ronan put the bike where Adam had stored his broken one and went into the kitchen to put away the groceries. When he returned to the hallway, the bike was gone.

“What the fucking hell...?”

“It's in my room!”

Ronan leaned on the banister and yelled up the stairs, “The fuck's wrong with you, Czerny?”

Noah didn't answer. Ronan jogged up the steps, taking them two at a time. 

Noah's room was the complete opposite of Parrish's. Every surface of a desk, two dressers, and a nightstand were littered with random crap. Some of the floor and bed were covered as well. The walls were adorned with music and movie posters and weird craft fair art. Parrish's bike was parked at the foot of the bed.

“Jesus Christ in heaven, this room looks like a bomb went off at a garage sale!”

“Oh, good. That's exactly what I was going for.”

“Great. Now, that we've uncovered your personal interior design brand. Tell me why the fuck you stole the bike?”

“I didn't steal it. I did you a favor and saved you from making a bigger ass out of yourself in front of Adam than you already have.”

“What's wrong with the bike?” Ronan asked as he picked up a special edition Blu-ray box for _Toy Story 2_ and opened it. Empty. Of course. He threw it back down on the desk on top of a book on computer programming, a deck of cards, and a stack of unopened mail.

Noah had grabbed a bag of cool ranch Doritos and waved them at Ronan. “It's a BMW bike. A BMW _bike_.” He popped a chip into his mouth.

“I know that. I bought it.”

“Lloyd bought it.”

“I paid for it.”

“You better get rid of it by the time Adam gets back.”

“Why would I do that? It's for _him_.”

Noah sighed dramatically. “If you're looking to impress Adam, this isn't -”

“I'm not looking to impress anyone.”

“And I quote: I like forests.”

Ronan gave him the finger.

Noah looked righteously smug. “Whatever mating rituals of the rich and famous that you're accustomed to are not going to work on Adam Parrish.”

“I'm not trying to mate - Jesus _fucking_ Christ - this is just...” Ronan sat on the edge of the huge king-sized bed. “Okay, yes. He's hot. But I'm not trying to do anything but not make him hate me. And it was...” Ronan played with the threads on his distressed jeans.

“Your fault that you knocked him off his bike.”

“I'm trying to make an amends.”

Noah knocked a pile of clothes off the bed and sat next to him. He offered the bag to Ronan, who shook his head. “I'll give you the rundown on Adam. You can use the information anyway you see fit. He's dated guys before - dates women too from what I’ve seen - but he doesn't date often. He's pretty clueless about dating and, well, a lot of social things actually.” He paused to chew on another Dorito. “He lives in his head a lot. Like he's ghosted people without actually realizing that he was ghosting them. Seriously. Months go by and he’ll text them and get totally confused as to why they’re annoyed with him.” He scrambled over the bed for a Vitamin Water on his nightstand. “He takes pride in the fact that he's independent and self-sufficient. And, the most important topic of the moment, he's not impressed with money. In fact, the opposite. Gross displays of it offend him. I'm assuming you googled him?”

Ronan rolled his eyes.

“I'll take that as a yes. Then you saw he went to Georgetown Prep?”

“Yeah. So?” 

“He went as a scholarship student.”

“So?”

“Sooooo… you know what it was like at Aglionby. Can you imagine being the poor kid from Virginia among a bunch of rich and entitled D.C. assholes?” Noah didn't wait for an answer. “No. We can't - because _we're_ the rich and entitled assholes. I mean the fight between him and Gansey about rent was epic.”

“He pays rent?"

“Yep. He insisted on it. Gansey argued all the facts. He inherited the house. He doesn’t pay a mortgage. His trust fund covers repairs. He told him that Adam that he only had to pay for utilities and spilt other costs, but Adam insisted that if he moved in he would pay rent, whether Gansey has a mortgage on the house or not. Gansey refused to give him a number. So, Adam researches what the average rent is for a house this size, a room his size, in this area and that’s what he pays Gansey every month. At first, he wrote Gansey checks and Gansey wouldn’t cash them. Adam had an absolute fit! Now, he Venmos it. I’m pretty sure Gansey just let’s it sit in his Venmo account.”

“What the fuck is wrong with him?”

“Who? Gansey or Adam?”

“Both. But Parrish at the moment.”

“It’s called pride and stubbornness, Ronan. Something you know a lot about. See now? Expensive gifts like this bike - as thoughtful as it is - will only piss him off.”

“Are you going to tell me to just be myself or some dumb fucking shit like that?”

“Yes. I was in fact going to tell you to be yourself.”

“Well, this is me.”

“Is it?” Out of the corner of his eye, Ronan saw Noah staring at him with the stare that he only reserved for Ronan. Noah acted immature and flighty, but he was smarter and more observant than most people knew. “This,” Noah continued as he pointed a Dorito at the bike, “is Hollywood Ronan Lynch.” He took a pause and, in a softer voice, he finished, “I was going to tell you to be The Barns Ronan Lynch.”

Ronan sucked in a breath like he'd been punched in the chest. Noah had stuck his finger in an open, bleeding wound. Finding that person he'd been - the Ronan who'd grown up surrounded by constant love and affection, who'd been allowed to dream and be free to believe that anything was possible, who’d been taught to love with everything he had - was something that him and his therapist had been working on for over a year. He was trying to carve out the parts of his personality that had been shaped and nurtured in that world and get rid of the parts that had been created to protect himself emotionally after his parents’ death. 

Noah leaned over and bumped Ronan's shoulders. “Hey, the thoughtfulness - that's you. That's always been _you_. Just dial back the rich and famous part, okay?”

“Dickface,” Ronan said, shoving Noah's shoulder, so that Noah had to stop himself from falling over.

“You're welcome.”

“You want the bike?”

“Nah. They make my ass hurt.”

“Suit yourself. I'll give it to Matthew for Christmas. Can I leave it here?”

“Sure. Why not.”

“Don't let your room fucking eat it!” Ronan said, and he left Noah's room knowing exactly what he was going to do to apologize to Parrish. 

Back in his room, he called Lloyd. Again.

~ ~ ~

It was dark by the time Adam got home. Things hadn't gone smoothly at the bike shop. He had to wait two hours and, though it wasn't a lot of money, it'd still cost him fifty-five dollars that he hadn't expected to spend. No matter how much better he was, because of this therapy, with all things related to money, unexpected costs still made him irritable.

At least he didn't have to worry about dinner. Gansey had texted him an hour or so ago saying that him and Blue were at the Downtown Christmas Market and did he want the black bean empanadas that he liked. Adam had immediately Venmo'd him the money. He found them in the kitchen. He heard the muffled sound of the TV playing downstairs and guessed Gansey and Blue were down there watching something. He heated up the empanadas in the toaster oven and ate them at the island while he reviewed a research paper. Sitting at the bike shop had at least allowed him to do some work on his own research, but he had to perform some data-mining and he couldn't do that at the bike shop with an unsecured WiFi. 

Before heading upstairs, he poured himself a glass of milk and grabbed a pack of the 100-calorie Oreos. 

It was quiet on the third floor. A light was shining through the bottom of Ronan’s door. Inside his bedroom, he was shocked for a moment to find a huge Nephrolepis exaltata on the top of his dresser. It was a beautiful specimen. The fronds were healthy and vibrant green. The conversation with Ronan the night before came back to him. He smiled and shook his head. _Ronan Lynch doesn't understand boundaries. Shocking._ There was a yellow post-it note on the dresser next to the plant with one sentence: “It was my fault.”

Adam took the note and went to Ronan's room. He knocked twice. Ronan yelled, “Yeah?” Adam figured that meant it was okay to open the door.

There were a few boxes and a suitcase piled up in the corner of the room, but mostly it looked like he was already starting to settle in. There was a TV, looked about forty-five to fifty inches, with a PS4 hooked up to it on the dresser next to the bed. A controller for it was on the bed, next to a MacBook. His well-worn, black combat boots were lying haphazardly on the floor and a pair of black jeans were next to them.

Ronan had the window open about three inches and the ceiling fan on low. The room was near freezing, but he was lounging on the bed, his back propped up by pillows against the black metal frame, wearing a loose-fitting muscle-tee and gray sweatpants. “Hey,” he said, sounding casual.

“It seems someone has broken into my room.”

“Really?” Ronan shook his head. “Neighborhood’s going down hill. What they’d take?”

“It’s curious. Nothing. It seemed they left me a plant. You didn't happen to notice anything or anyone suspicious hanging around?”

Ronan faked a pensive look. “I don't know. That Sargent chick looks shady as fuck. It's the tiny ones you need to watch out for.”

Adam played along. “It could've been Blue. She does know that the Boston fern is my favorite houseplant.”

“Or maybe Noah. Have you seen the shitsty he calls a room? It's possible his crap is starting to migrate.”

Adam laughed. Ronan's serious expression was cracking a little.

“You think it could've been Gansey?” Adam asked.

“Nah. If Dick had bought it, he would've had to have given it to you in-person, with a ceremony and shit, maybe a few tears.”

Adam threw his head back and laughed. “You should've seen him when he gave me the keys to the house. He made a speech.”

That ended Ronan's facade. His lips curved up into a small smile. “Of course, he did.”

“Well, if you see any hooligans around, thank them for me.”

Adam turned to leave, but Ronan stopped him. “Hey, wait a minute.” Adam walked a few steps further into the room. “I meant what I said. On the note. I should pay - I want to pay for the repairs to the bike.”

“It's...” Adam stopped. 

His first instinct was to say 'no.’ Ronan had already bought a plant. He could afford to take care of his own bike. He didn't take handouts. 

But this wasn’t charity; it had been Ronan's fault. And he hadn’t asked for the plant. It was a gift. “Yeah. Okay. It was fifty-five.” His therapist will be so proud.

Ronan scrambled to get something out of the nightstand. It was his wallet. He opened it and pulled out several bills, got out of bed, and handed five tens and a five to Adam. 

Adam folded it and put it in his pocket. “You carry that much cash on you?”

“Yeah for tips.”

Adam made a note of that, writing it on a list, stored in his head, that he'd just started about ten minutes ago, titled, _'Maybe Ronan Lynch isn't Such an Asshole After All.'_

“Well, night,” Adam said, turning to leave. 

Again, Ronan stopped him. “Hey, Parrish.” He held out his hand. “Give it to me.”

“What?”

He pointed at the post-it in Adam's hand. Adam handed it to him. Ronan smirked. “Can't have evidence against me out there. It might fall into the wrong hands. People might start to think I'm soft or something.”

“We wouldn’t want that.”

Adam smiled all the way back to his room.

~ ~ ~

It had taken Adam's therapist – his fourth by the way – three tries before he would even talk about taking time off for himself. She'd originally suggested the entire weekend but backed-off, settling for only one day, when they kept going in circles about it.

The hardest part for him had been deciding what to actually do. Adam was good at taking care of himself physically. That wasn't an issue. He took time to sleep and eat, ran every weekday morning, took time to get regular massages and haircuts, and, had no unusual hang-ups regarding sex or masturbation. His therapist would say differently: “Sex isn't only for stress relief, Adam.” But Adam considered that an issue with intimacy, not with sex. He liked sex.  
_  
“Is there nothing that you do that is just for entertainment sakes?” his therapist asked._

_“I watch TV sometimes.”_

_“Do you watch TV or are you just in a room with someone else who is watching TV and you're actually doing work or studying?”_

_“I think you already know the answer to that.”_

_“I do. I'm just passively-aggressively calling you out on your bullshit.”_

_“Fine. No. I don't do anything that is only to provide enjoyment.”_

_“Ever or just now?”_

_“I used to read fiction novels a lot when I was a kid.”_

_“When did you start reading them?”_

_“My grade school didn't know what to do with someone like me –”_

_“Like you?”_

_“Well above average intelligence.”_

_She nodded._

_“I would always be weeks, months, even years ahead of the rest of the class. I wouldn't have anything to do in class. Some of the teachers would let me go to the library and read.”_

_“What sort of books did you read?”_

_“At first, I read educational books. Then Mrs. Foster, the librarian, gave me a fiction book to read, and I liked it. She considered me a pet project, I guess. She would even order books for the school that she thought I'd like.”_

_“What was the first book she gave you?”_

_“Harry Potter and The Sorcerer's Stone.”_

_“And that’s the sort of books you like – fantasy?”_

_He nodded. “Science fiction too. Sometimes. A lot of the time, it's hard for me to get passed the poorly explained science in them.” _

_“Why do you think you like fantasies?”_

_“Doesn't take a doctorate in psychology to work that one out.”_

_“Humor me, Adam.”_

_“They were about kids like me – poor, abused, lonely – who found out magic existed or that they had skills that made them special and they went on adventures, made friends, fell in love, and always conquered the bad guy.” She didn’t say anything, so he continued, “The library was great because it was free. When I left primary school and went to middle school, the teachers weren't as open to me spending my time in the school library, but I rode my bike, after school and on the weekends, to the public library in town. When I could.”_

_“Why did you stop reading?” After he didn't respond, she asked a more direct question. “Did you stop before you left home and went to Georgetown prep?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Did your father find a book?”_

_“No.” He sat up straighter. Met her eyes. “I was at the library after school and I got lost in a story and lost track of time.”_

_“And you got home after him.”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“How bad was it?”_

_He shrugged. “Not the worst, but I couldn't take the chance that it'd happen again.”_

_“Remember, Adam. You control your life now. Only you. You have all the time in the world to get lost in a story if you want.”_

_“Yeah.”_

~ ~ ~

Letting go and doing something fun, for himself, had started to get a little easier. There were some weeks that Adam had actually started to look forward to it. He didn't spend every Sunday reading. Some Sundays he went out with his roommates, sometimes with them and Blue, or sometimes he went with just Blue back to Henrietta to visit her family. Sometimes, when the weather was nice, he took the train into New York or Philadelphia to walk around alone. But this Sunday he'd woken up to find a dreary, cold, rainy day. That meant no one expected him to go outside. Work wasn't a worry either. The day before, he'd gotten a lot more done than he'd expected. In fact, right before he’d shut down for sleep, he'd solved a complicated problem in his research that had been plaguing him for weeks. This meant that he could spend the day reading without any guilt or worries. It felt good.

He only had to take care of some wash first. He stripped his bed and ran the sheets and pillowcases down to the washer in the basement, stopping in the kitchen to eat a Pop Tart and start the coffee. He thought about Ronan for a moment and wondered if he was finally getting a good night's sleep.

Back upstairs, he took a long, hot shower, skipped shaving, and put on his most comfortable pair of joggers and old Georgetown Prep sweatshirt, which was starting to get a little tight in the chest, and grabbed the last book he'd checked out of the library. He'd started it last week. The book, _ Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell_, had instantly captivated him. The story was set in England within an alternate-Earth, where magic had once been commonplace until the disappearance of its ruler and its greatest magician, the Raven King. Adam adored it. He found the magic in the book, which was usually whimsical and illogical in fantasy books, had a mathematical logic to it. And the writing, though pure fictional fantasy, felt academic. It even included footnotes! 

He settled down with his book and a cup of coffee in his favorite reading spot, a comfortable, toffee colored, extra-wide, leather recliner in Gansey's study. Correction: _their_ study. “It's your study too, Adam,” Gansey had said. “Not just mine. You live here. You pay rent. You can use it anytime that you wish.” The study was in the back of the house with the entrance through a door just behind the staircase. It was a large room filled with dark wood antique furniture, including a huge mahogany desk with Gansey's miniatures project on top of it. Everything was beautiful, but had imperfections from years of use. The rug was oriental and looked well worn. Two walls were filled with shelves from floor to ceiling and filled with books of all kinds, some a century or more old. At the back of the room, behind the desk, were two French patio doors that led to the small backyard garden. It felt old. And rich. But also, appeasing and soothing in a way that Adam couldn't explain. It was a lot like Gansey. That's why he called it Gansey's Study.

He got comfortable, pushing the footrest out and pulling a dark blue, thick knitted throw over his legs to his waist.

Five hours later, his stomach rumbling alerted him that it was time to eat lunch. He noted the page he was on and closed the book, bringing it with him. If no one was around, he could read while he ate. 

When Adam opened the door, he heard an unrecognizable voice with a thick Irish accent. The voices got louder as he walked down he hallway. “Checked it out. Talked to a few old-timers. It's filled with lots of political bigwigs or wives and kids of bigwigs. They’ll stay quiet. Here's the address and schedule. You'll go tonight then?”

“Stop twisting my balls, Finn.”

“Don't twist my balls either, Ronan. This is important and – Oh. Hi, you must be Adam.”

An older man, who looked around fifty or so, stood in the kitchen with Ronan. He was quite a bit shorter than Adam’s, but had a broad chest and a thick body. He had thick and unruly eyebrows above light blue eyes and a scruffy, beard with about as much gray hairs as brown. He had on a brown wool coat and a gray tweed flat cap. 

“Hello. Yes.” Adam stepped forward, offering him his hand. The man took it and shook it with a firm grip. 

“I'm Tommy Finnegan, but everyone calls me Finn. I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

“Yeah?” Adam looked over at Ronan, who was leaning against the sink, chewing on thumbnail and looking sulky.

“Gansey-boy talks about you all the time. Says you’re something really special.” Finn looked back at Ronan. “Where are the lads anyway?”

“How the fuck do I know?” Ronan cupped his hands around his mouth. “DICK! CZERNY!”

Adam rolled his eyes. “Classy, Lynch.”

Soon you could hear the sound of footsteps hurrying down the stairs. Gansey appeared in the kitchen, saw Finn, and smiled excitedly. “Finn!” 

Finn hugged Gansey, patting him hard on the back. The two men were around the same height. 

“You look well, Gansey-boy,” Finn said. His huge hand grabbed the top of Gansey’s head and he shook it slightly. “How the hell are ya?”

“Good. Glad to have Ronan here with us for awhile.”

Ronan grunted.

“I see you’ve met Adam.”

“I have,” Finn replied. “Where’s the Zombie?”

“He went out a little while ago. He should be back soon.”

“I have to get going,” Finn said. “I’ll see him sooner or later. You’ll be seeing a lot of me while I cart himself’s arse around town.” 

Gansey looked disappointed. “Well, promise me you’ll come by for dinner one night. My friends and I have a standing Friday night dinner here.”

“It’s a promise.” Finn looked at Ronan. “If you need me to drive you anywhere tonight, you know how to find me.” He smiled at Adam. “Nice to meet you, Adam.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Gansey said. As he was walking away, he called out behind him, “If you were about to order lunch, Adam, wait for me.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Ronan said, pushing off the sink. “Is that all you do around here? Eat take-out? Don’t any of you losers know how to cook?”

Adam jumped up on a barstool. “I don’t always eat out.”

“Pop Tarts don’t count.”

Adam felt his cheeks warm. Ronan had taken note of what he ate. Was it to judge him? Or tease him? “Hey, it’s not just Pop Tarts. There’s cereal too.”

Ronan clucked his tongue. “Mother of God.” He opened the refrigerator and started taking things out of it and throwing them angrily on the counter. Adam spotted an onion and fresh broccoli.

“Where’d all that food come from?” Gansey asked as he stepped back into the kitchen.

“The fucking food elves brought it over night. Now, go away. Lunch’ll be ready in fifteen to twenty minutes.” Gansey shrugged and walked out into the dining room. Adam sat there confused. “You too and what are you anyway?” He waved the spatula that he’d just pulled out of a drawer at Adam. “Vegan, vegetarian or pescatarian?”

“Um... pescatarian? Are you cooking seafood?”

“Not today. Any allergies or anything?”

“No.”

“Good. Get the fuck out.”

Adam joined Gansey in the dining room. He sat down, put his book on the table, and whispered across it, “Is he cooking us lunch?” 

Gansey nodded. “Looks that way.”

Adam sat back in the chair. “Oh.” He heard... was that whisking? He leaned the chair backward on two legs to give him a slight view of the kitchen. Ronan was indeed whisking something in a bowl.

Gansey cleared his throat. Adam snapped his chair back on four legs. “Why?” Adam asked.

“Why what?”

“Why is he cooking us lunch?”

“Who knows. Because he’s annoyed that we don’t do it for ourselves. Because he’s bored. Because he’s hungry. Because he’s trying to impress us - or annoy us. Because he wants to. Because he feels he has to make up for his intrusion in our lives. Because he’s Ronan Lynch and he’s an enigma.”

The smell of food started to fill the room, making Adam’s stomach rumble. 

“Um I was wondering if I could ask you...” Gansey leaned his elbows on the table and linked his fingers. “Blue asked me to go home with her on New Year’s Eve. I was wondering if you could give me advice. Blue said her family is, well, eccentric. I don’t want to do or say anything offensive.”

Adam laughed. “You will. Don’t worry about it. You’ll get used to them. Don’t drink anything that smells weird and keep an open-mind and you’ll be fine.”

“Should I bring something?”

“Wine and gin. Not too expensive, but not cheap either.” Adam paused, distracted by the sound of pots clanging together. He peered back out in the kitchen, but couldn’t see Ronan. “Oh and flowers. Ignore Blue’s speech about giving someone something that is dying. Her mother loves them.”

Gansey smiled bright. “Thanks, Adam! I really appreciate it. Are you coming with us? Blue said you’d be there over Christmas, but she wasn’t sure if you were staying for New Year’s.”

“Yeah. I’ll be there for Christmas. Not New Year’s though.” It wasn’t because he’d feel like a third wheel with Gansey being there. He could never feel that way at 300 Fox Way. Blue and the women there were the closest thing he’s ever had to a family. You can’t feel like a third wheel with family. At least not now. He hadn’t always felt that way, especially when the “remember when” stories popped up. But, over the years, the “remember when” stories grew to include Adam stories. Like “remember when Adam first learned how to scry and almost got lost and Blue cut him with her pocket knife? That was great!” He wasn’t going to warn Gansey about their dark sense of humor. He’d find that out for himself.

“You can’t stay home alone,” Gansey said in his dad’s voice. 

Adam bit back the fight bubbling up in his mouth. He knew Gansey meant well, even if it felt controlling. Gansey wasn’t his father.

“I won’t,” Adam replied. “What will you do with Ronan?”

“He’ll probably be with his brothers. Unless Declan has a date... I don’t know. Maybe he’ll hang out here.” 

Noah suddenly appeared, slipping into the seat next to Gansey. “Yo, Lynch! Hurry up with the food. I’m starving!”

Adam frowned. “How’d you know he was cooking?”

“Because he’s a parasite,” Ronan said as he entered the room holding two plates. “Go get forks and napkins, Czerny. Make yourself useful.” 

Without a word, Ronan placed a plate with a large omelette and a healthy helping of potatoes in front of Adam and one in front of Gansey, then turned and went back into the kitchen. The potatoes were quartered red potatoes, pan-fried with - Adam smelled them - onions, garlic, and rosemary.

Ronan came back, with Noah behind him, carrying two more plates: one for himself and one for Noah. Noah dumped the forks and napkins on the table. Adam immediately grabbed one and sliced into the omelette. It was filled with mushrooms, broccoli, and cheese. Adam took a bite. It was delicious. He tried the potatoes and they were even better.

“Mmmm...” he said, nodding at Ronan, his mouth full with food.

“Adam got more potatoes than me,” Noah said.

“Fuck off, Czerny,” Ronan said. “I gave yours a special sauce.”

Noah responded by picking up a potato and licking it seductively.

“You’re both disgusting.” Gansey caught Adam’s eye and rolled his. Adam smiled. He enjoyed this, watching the banter between these friends.

“We don’t need your homophobia here, Dick.”

“I think that masturbating on potatoes would fall more under the category of a kink,” Adam said dryly.

Ronan grunted a chuckle. 

Noah laughed. “Yeah, no kink-shaming, Gans!”

Gansey said, “Please, Adam. Don’t encourage them.”

They joked and ate and Adam finished everything on his plate. They all stood to take the plates into the kitchen and Adam and Gansey insisted that Ronan didn’t need to help, since he’d cooked. “What the fuck else am I going to do?”

And that’s how Adam ended up waiting for Ronan to rinse things off before handing them off to Adam to put into the dishwasher. Noah had wandered off down to the basement, but not before he challenged Ronan to a game of Mario Kart when he was done playing their "house-husband." Gansey was looking through the cabinets, refrigerator, and freezer while Adam and Ronan worked in tandem. “Ronan, you bought a lot of food.”

“I gotta eat, man,” Ronan said. “Gonna be stuck in here until Wednesday.”

“Is that when you start shooting the movie?” Adam asked.

“Yeah. Hopefully,” Ronan replied. He handed Adam the last dish and grabbed one of the two frying pans from the stove. “Unless it’s pissing buckets like it is today. We’ll try to shoot at night for three nights. Four if there are fuck-ups.”

While Ronan was talking, Gansey phone buzzed in his pocket. He checked it and excused himself. Silence fell between Adam and Ronan while Ronan finished hand-washing the pan. “I got it,” he said, reaching for a dishtowel. “Have to towel dry it or it’ll rust.”

Adam asked Ronan something that had confused him earlier when Finn was there. “Why does Finn call Noah ‘Zombie’?”

“You know about Noah being sick, right?”

“Yeah. That’s how he ended up in the same year at uni as Gansey.”

“Right. Well, he died. His heart stopped for several minutes.” 

“I get it. Finn’s been working for you for awhile then?”

Ronan nodded. Several seconds later, he added, “Finn’s been my bodyguard since I was a kid.” He handed Adam the last frying pan, and Adam stored it away.

There was nothing left to do in the kitchen now. Adam was sure that Ronan wanted to get downstairs to hang out with Noah. He picked up his book and said, “Thanks for lunch. It was really great.”

Ronan smiled and shrugged a shoulder. “No big deal.”

“You’re certainly full of surprises, Ronan Lynch,” Adam said. He tapped his book twice on the counter and went back to the study to read, and, if his mind wandered to Ronan Lynch making breakfast or Ronan Lynch lounging around in sweatpants or Ronan Lynch smiling at him, maybe he’d let it stay there for awhile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I know. But I like a Ronan who knows his way around a kitchen. Humor me.
> 
> Comments are always loved and appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ronan and Adam continue to learn more about each other.

**A Love Story in Three Acts**

Act. I

_They Meet_

Ronan was going to go insane if he didn't get out of the house soon. He'd been cooped up for almost two days straight. The rain had stopped by the time he got bored of playing Mario Kart with Noah. He considered sitting out in the garden, but he would've had to go through the study and he didn't want to bother Parrish, who'd disappeared in there with his book hours ago.

He sat on the edge of the bed, flipping the folded piece of paper that Finn had given him earlier between his thumb and index finger, over and over and over. He hated this. He hated that he needed to do this. He wanted to be able to go downstairs and cook dinner for his friends. He wanted to hang out with Parrish and get to know him better. 

He wanted a _drink_.

He unfolded the paper and looked at the times. There was a meeting in a little over an hour. He mapped the address on his phone. It was six point three miles. He stood to get dressed. If he got his ass moving, he could run there and burn down his anger and frustration in a healthy way. 

On his way out, at the bottom of the stairs, he ran into Parrish, who'd emerged from the study looking beautiful and relaxed and, again, so, so warm. Ronan didn't know why he thought that about Parrish. He was tall, not as tall as Ronan though, and lean and bony, and his coloring could only be described as dusty. But when Ronan looked at him, all he could think of was 'warm,' and Ronan wanted to wrap himself in Parrish like a warm blanket.

"Hey," Parrish said. "Going for a run?"

"Yeah."

"What about...?" Parrish waved his hand in front of his own face.

Ronan drew a balaclava from his pocket and put it on. He pulled the hood of his hoodie up for a dramatic effect.

Parrish smiled. "Stealthy. You could be a spy." Ronan started to reply, but Parrish said, "Wait. Let me guess. You've played one in the movies."

"Four times actually." Ronan knew it sounded inappropriately snappish. His mood was overpowering him. Before he could say anything stupid or offensive, he said, "See ya, Parrish," turned and headed out the door. 

Ten minutes into his run and he already started to feel better. He knew physical exercise helped ease his moods, but he'd put it off until he was close to a boiling point. It was like he knew he needed to drink more water. Knew it was good for him. Knew it made him feel physically better. His body craved it. Yet, he didn't drink it until he felt awful and was absolutely parched. 

He arrived at the meeting location ten minutes early.Finn had done well in finding a remote location. The area was quiet and residential. The entrance to the meeting was through a basement door. Ronan didn't pull off his hood and mask until he was well inside and surrounded by the universal familiarity and predictably of these meetings, the room filled with drab, metal folding chairs, the store bought donuts and cookies and boxed coffee, one decaf and one regular.

A few people were sitting already, a few lingered around the snack table. He pulled back a chair and sat down. A young black guy, barely out of his teens, sitting across from him, nodded. "What's'up, man?" Silently, Ronan nodded back. More people came in and eventually everyone sat down. The circle of seats filled up with a mix of ages and races, most were men, only two middle-aged, white women came in together and sat together. An older bald, white guy, wearing black pants and a white striped button down shirt, started the meeting. Ronan sat and listened, but he didn't contribute to the bucket of stories and struggles. He'd been to countless meetings, but had only shared, at the urging of his sponsor, three times: when he got his 30-day chip, his 90-day chip, and his 1-year chip. He'd limited his words to generic phrases like "couldn't have done it without the program," "taking this one day at a time," and "thankful to be here and sober."

He looked around the circle a few times to see if anyone seemed entirely too interested in him. He'd caught a few people staring, but they quickly looked away. When the meeting ended, Ronan dropped a few twenties into the donation basket and left without speaking to anyone. He'd considered running home, but he knew that'd be pushing it. He didn't need to miss the first few days of filming because he'd pulled a muscle or thrown his back out. He swallowed his pride, pulled out his phone, and texted Declan. 

_Need a ride. A few blocks away._

_Are you in trouble?????_

_fuck off. NO._

Ronan sent the address and stood inside the hallway near, but not blocking, the front door. The older man, who dressed like a waiter and had introduced himself to the group as Rob, walked out of the meeting room, a cigarette and lighter already in his hand. He paused in front of Ronan. "Hey, just thought you'd like to know that we have open meetings. Schedule's online."

It was good to know. People in the program respected the bond and the informal anonymous agreement between them all, but friends and family, attending an open meeting, might not. Ronan responded, "Cool. Thanks."

"No problem." Rob walked out, lighting the cigarette before the door had shut. The young guy came out next. When he passed Ronan, he offered him his fist. Ronan bumped knuckles and the kid walked out, chuckling softly and shaking his head, the sort of action that said, 'Jesus this shit is weird'. A larger group came out together, talking about getting something to eat. They passed by Ronan without a word, but glanced at him with interested, curious eyes.

Declan's text that he'd arrived came in record time. Declan. Always distrustful. Always waiting for Ronan to fuck up again. Ronan put on his mask and pulled up his hood and stepped outside. Declan's bland silver Volvo was parked illegally on the opposite corner. 

Ronan jogged across the street, got in, and slammed the passenger door. 

Scowling, Declan looked at his all black outfit. Before he could say anything, Ronan said, "It was a meeting. Don't break my balls."

As Declan pulled away, his rigid, worried face morphed into a flat, neutral look because the situation's balance came down to a big fat zero in Declan's ledger. The negative was that Ronan needed to attend these meetings in the first place. The positive was that he'd actually attended one. One positive plus one negative equaled nothing.

"What if I wasn't home?"

"Would've called Finn."

"Why didn't you then?"

Ronan leaned towards his brother, titled his head to the side, and blinked repeatedly at him. "Because I wanted to see your pretty face."

"You're ridiculous, Ronan," Declan said, but Ronan noticed that his shoulders had eased a bit. "Seriously. Why didn't you have Finn drive you here?"

Ronan sighed. "Gave him the night off."

"He's your driver. He drives you places you need to be. He doesn't get a night off."

"He gets as many nights off as I say he gets off." 

"You need to be cautious about these meetings. If anyone -"

"Stop!" Ronan exhaled loudly. "Fucking hell. Can't you take the stick out of your ass for five fucking minutes?"

"I'm only trying to -"

"I _know_ what you're trying to do. But I've got to deal with my own shit, man. If I fuck-up, I fuck-up, and it'll be no one's fault but my own. Got it?" 

Declan frowned, but he nodded. He looked at Ronan. "I'm not going to stop worrying about you though."

"Okay. Whatever."

Declan sighed loudly. "I don't understand why you resent me for caring about you."

"Because it feels more like controlling." There he'd said. He'd said it countless times to his therapist and to Gansey and Noah, probably even a few times to Matthew, more than that to Finn, but never to Declan himself. And, once it was out there, it felt like he resented his brother less for it. He had needed that meeting more than he'd thought he did.

Declan didn't respond. They stopped at two traffic lights before he replied, "I don't know how to care any other way. Dad..."

Ronan said quietly, "I know." And he did know. They didn't need to talk about it. Ronan had heard enough people's daddy issues for one night.

"Have you eaten dinner?" Declan asked.

"No."

"I was just about to start making something when you texted. Matthew's home. If you want, we can swing back and eat at my house."

"Yeah. Sure."

They drove back towards Declan's in silence. The words that Ronan didn't share at his meeting echoing in his head. He wondered if he was ready to say them to someone, maybe to Declan. He looked at his chronically tense brother needlessly clutching the steering wheel. No. This was his problem. Hadn't he just told Declan that? 

_One thousand and twenty-three days._

~ ~ ~

Only Gansey was around for dinner. Adam ordered them curry and felt a little ashamed after what Ronan had said earlier. While him and Gansey ate, he waited, until Gansey had finished telling him about a rare book on Celtic gods that a colleague of his from London was sending him, to mention the lunch earlier that day.

"I have to say," Adam started, "that I miss Ronan's cooking already."

"I've been meaning to check in with you about Ronan. Has he been any trouble?"

"No - no not at all. I mean, well, he is harsh and moody, but he seems to have a kinder side, even if it's a bit buried."

Gansey looked delighted. "I'm so glad you see that, Adam. I really, really am. Ronan's like a brother and you've come to mean a lot to me too... and I worried that Ronan might be a bit too much. He's not everyone's cup of tea."

Adam's cheeks had warm at Gansey's openness about his feelings towards him. He swirled his spoon around in his mulligatawny soup, letting it sink in what Gansey had said. He wasn't sure how to respond to it. Did he need to tell Gansey how he felt now? That the feeling was reciprocated? Adam decided that he'd let too much time pass to say anything. He'd made it awkward. He kept the subject on Ronan.

"I'm still trying to wrap my head around you and Ronan becoming friends in the first place," he said.

Gansey wiped his mouth with a napkin and sat back in his chair. "Blue told me you two talked about Ronan." Adam nodded. "Ronan was very different before his parents murder."

"So, he wasn't an asshole?"

"Well, no. I mean, yes. He was always a bit of an asshole. He doesn't... he hates fake people. He detests liars. He's always looked at the world cynically. But if you'd known him then, you'd understand why."

Gansey took a sip of his water and continued, "Ronan had - still has, I hope - such a beautiful imagination. He used to create entire worlds in his mind. He'd write stories and draw them out. They were extraordinarily detailed. He told me once that he would dream these worlds. Sometimes, he'd miss school because he'd wake up from such a vivid dream that he'd spend all day writing or drawing what he'd dreamed. I suppose going out into the real world, filled with suffering and cruelty, made him cynical towards reality when he was able to see worlds that were so much more beautiful."

"And then his parents were murdered."

"And then his parents were murdered." Gansey's expression turned sad. "It was a horrible thing to watch Ronan break. He found them. Did you know that? He found his father first in the driveway."

"No," Adam said quietly, imagining that photo again of Ronan at his parents' funeral.

"He came home from school. Found his father dead in the driveway by his car. Finn didn't know what was going on. Did you know that he was Ronan's bodyguard and driver back to when he was a kid?"

"Yeah. Ronan told me."

"Finn was still at the car. He couldn't see Niall's body. He just saw Ronan running into the house. By the time he realized what had happened, Ronan had already found his mother. Thank god Finn was there. The evil bastard that'd killed them was still in the house. Finn shot him before he could hurt Ronan too."

Adam had known horrors more than most people and little shocked him but that made him inhale sharply. 

"Ronan came to stay with me, but it was a nightmare. The press and the paps were all over him. I tried to help, but it was too much. Ronan was barely going to school anymore. Declan - that's his older brother - was trying to take care of Matthew - the youngest brother - and Ronan was falling apart. He'd shaved his head, got a tattoo, and started drinking and going out every night, until morning, drag racing getting arrested and into fights. Then Noah got sick." Gansey shook his head. "It was a mess." 

Adam stood and started cleaning off the table, while he asked, "When did Hollywood come in?"

They carried the uneaten food into the kitchen and while they cleaned up and put it away, Gansey replied, "Ronan wanted to quit school. Declan kept trying to force him to stay. Then one day, Declan asked Ronan, _'What will you do to support yourself with no job? You're not going to live off mom and dad's money and drink and party all night like some LA loser.'_ That sounded a lot like a dare to Ronan. So, Ronan choose the one career that Declan would hate the most. He auditioned for a role, got the part, and dropped out of Aglionby. And, as they say, the rest is history."

"That lifestyle is not the best to be in when you're in the middle of a breakdown."

"No. It's not. A lot of enablers in Hollywood. It just got worse. Watching him in the news like everyone else, it... I tried to help, but..." 

Adam could see the discomfort and pain that the memories were bringing Gansey. He realized that this wasn't just Ronan's story; it was Gansey's too. He'd seen how much Gansey cared about his friends, the effort, loyalty, and devotion he put into his friendships. "You could only do so much," Adam said. "You're a good friend, Gansey, if you weren't, Ronan wouldn't be here now."

"Thanks." Then Gansey smiled. "It's better. This is him, getting better. I'm glad he's here." Gansey put his hand on Adam's shoulder. "I'm glad you're here too, Adam."

"Me too," Adam said, like he meant it. Because he did. 

"I'm glad we're all here!" Noah yelled from somewhere out in the hall. Adam and Gansey laughed. Noah appeared in the kitchen, grinning. "Weird coincidence that we all grew up near each other - Blue too - and never met, not even once, but here we all are now, best buds."

"I don't believe in coincidences," Gansey said.

Neither did Adam.

~ ~ ~

Upstairs, alone in his room, Adam scrolled through his texts with Blue, looking for the one she'd sent him after he told her about Ronan's plant. She'd texted him the name of a movie and her Netflix login information. _'Thought you might be interested. It's the one I think you'd be most interested in.'_ Then she'd sent a wink emoji.

He didn't bother kidding himself that he wasn't interested. The past 24 hours had made him very interested in Ronan Lynch. He settled into bed, with his MacBook and earphones, to watch 'The Folsom Five," a movie about five former inmates of Folsom State Prison who ban together to use their wits and skills to pull off a complicated heist. Their target the corrupt and abusive warden of Folsom. 

Despite his lack of knowledge in popular media, Adam had seen several movies in his lifetime: a few on dates, three or four times when a study group needed a break, and once for a class project. Given his limited repertoire of cinema, he was still pretty sure that he'd seen a movie with the exact same overall plot. Maybe even twice.

The opening scene was a close-up of strong shoulders and a muscular back covered in an intricate black tattoo, the camera catching every detail, the muscles stretching and flexing beneath it, the sheen of sweat on the skin. The camera panned around, showing a broad chest, and then the camera pulled back, revealing Ronan's face.

"Holy. Shit." Adam took a deep breath. He had seen only the hint of the ink that escaped the edges of Ronan's tees, but looking at the whole thing had made Adam _want_. He rewound back to the beginning of the scene and watched it again, knowing now what to expect, expecting to not have the same reaction. He did. In fact, this time it felt more intense. He felt his face heat with embarrassment. He should not be acting like a 14-year-old getting a hard-on in his bedroom because of an R-rated movie.

He let the movie play on beyond the opening scene. Ronan's character, Alec Payne, is released from jail and starts to round up a gang to help him on his quest. The last person he visits is his closest friend Michael. It's obvious they've had some sort of falling out, but Alec uses his charm and convinces him to join them. Michael brings along his sister, Rebecca, because of her exceptional skills at breaking and entering. She's the only one who isn't an ex-con, as she points out, because she's not stupid enough to get caught. 

Halfway through and Adam started to think that Blue had told him the wrong movie. From his limited knowledge, it still seemed the movie was following the typical heterosexual "do we hate each other or do we want to fuck" romantic plot. Alec and Rebecca fight relentlessly and flirt shamelessly. There's even a scene where the two of them attend a black tie event, pretending they're a couple and share a passionate kiss while dancing.

The movie was still entertaining enough, even if wasn't what Adam had been hoping for. Then the romance took a sharp turn. The scene starts the evening before the robbery. The gang are going over last minute details in their hideout, but they're tired and cranky, so Alec tells them they're ready, to go and get a good night's sleep. Michael stays behind. He's standing and working at putting together a piece of their equipment at a desk. Alec leans against the table, casual and charming, trying to engage Michael into conversation. But Michael just looks annoyed and angry. Michael starts to go off on Alec, telling him it's not that easy, that Alec can't walk in and out of this life whenever he feels like it. Michael starts to walk away, until Alec grabs him and kisses him, roughly, then slower, until it's soft and loving.

Adam had to give the filmmakers credit. He didn't see it coming, though there were signs all the way back to when the two men were first on screen together. Adam was attracted to men. Had dated men. Had sex with men. And he still had viewed the movie, up until that point, through a heterosexual lens. Even though he'd been specifically looking for a romance between Ronan's character and another man, after Alec and Rebecca kiss and Michael was furious, Adam had assumed Michael's anger was because Rebecca was his sister, not because he was in love with Alec.

Blue had said that the movie was a first of its kind and that it had caused controversy. He could see why it upset homophobes. The sex scene that followed the kiss was something that Adam had never seen in a mainstream movie before between two men. It wasn't filmed or cut much different from the heterosexual ones he'd seen. It was as explicit as you could get in an R-rated film and it was hot as fuck. 

Really, Adam had not expected to end his night this way, lying in bed, balancing his computer on his thighs, his insides on fire, his brain melting, and struggling with the urge to slip his hand under the covers and rub his erection. He paused it when the scene cut away. This felt weird. Though he knew he wasn't a weirdo. It was all created visually to turn people on. Ronan Lynch's career was established on people either wanting him or wanting to be him. But Ronan Lynch just wasn't some guy on a screen, existing like a fantasy somewhere out of Adam's reach. He was some guy who Adam now shared a bathroom with. Some guy who'd cooked him lunch and bought him a plant. He was some guy who was friends-like-brothers with his roommates, who Adam considered his best friends. Ronan Lynch wasn't just a fantasy. He was a reality. A very tall, really handsome reality.

He took a deep breath to steady himself and turned the movie back on. The robbery is dragged out by complications, but, in the end, they not only get the money, they also expose the warden's criminal activities and he's arrested. The dramatic twist is centered around Michael, whom the audience is made to think is arrested during the heist. But it was all part of the planned chain of events to pull off the scam. The last scene shows Alec racing up to their hideout in a classic 1968 red Camaro convertible, with a white racing strip on the hood and white leather interior seats, and Michael appears out the door, jumps in the car, kisses Alec and they speed away.

Johnny Cash's 'Folsom Prison Blues' started to play as the credits rolled.

_Ah. What the hell._ Adam grabbed lube from his nightstand and pulled the slider back to the first scene. This was really not how he'd expected this night to go.

~ ~ ~

Ronan didn't see Adam again until late on Wednesday night, just before midnight. The damn rain had delayed shooting for the night. They'd tried to get a few shots in, but the weather just wouldn't let up. Him and Adam met in the exact same spot they had on Sunday. Ronan walked in the door to find Adam standing there, coat and hat on, computer bag slung over his shoulder, looking at this phone.

"Hey."

"Oh, hey," Adam said, sounding distracted.

"Where are you off to?"

"The research facility. There's something wrong at the lab. I need to get there and take of it."

"It's pretty late. Can't it wait until tomorrow."

"If it could, I wouldn't be standing here trying to get an Uber." 

Ronan, no stranger to unprovoked sarcasm, ignored him. "Don't bother. Let me drive you."

"What - no. I can take an Uber."

"Parrish, I'm bored the ever-loving fuck out of my goddamn mind. Please. Do not make me beg you."

"Oh, you want to come with me too?" 

"Forget it." Ronan was tired, frustrated with the work delays, and feeling a mood settle in. He thought helping Parrish and going for a drive might help, but he wasn't really going to beg him. 

Ronan moved to the side to go past him, but Adam grabbed his forearm. He didn't say anything for a few seconds. Ronan raised his eyebrows. Adam let go and said, "Hey, no. It's pretty shitty out there and I hate Ubers. I appreciate the offer. Thanks." 

Ronan unclenched his jaw. He pulled his hoodie over his head. "Come on, then."

The rain had turned into a heavy, icy drizzle. They jogged down the street to Ronan's BMW that hadn't been moved since he'd first arrived and slammed his door into Adam's bike. Ronan clicked the alarm off and they got in, shivering. 

Adam ran his hand through his damp hair and smiled at Ronan when he noticed him looking. "Nice vintage," Adam said, looking around the car.

"Thanks." Ronan put the key in the ignition and turned the car on. "No GPS through."

"Sure. Right. It's in Brentwood. About 30 minutes."

Ronan pulled the car out of the space. "I hope this doesn't upset your delicate sensibilities about running the environment."

"Huh? Oh. No. That's not why I ride a bike. I actually like cars. Especially classics."

"Why do you then?"

"Can't afford the insurance here in D.C.. And it's not worth struggling for it, when I can bike or take the Metro mostly everywhere."

"Except at midnight on a rainy Wednesday."

"Yeah. Except then. Why do you have a driver _and_ a car?"

"Easier when working to have a driver." Adam's phone buzzed with an incoming text. Ronan drove in silence while he responded. When he lifted his head and looked at Ronan, Ronan said, "This was my dad's car."

"You've kept it in great condition. The third generation of the 3 Series is the best, in my opinion. I know a lot of people like the fourth generation for the bells and whistles, that's when auto technology really took off, but the E36 is the better drive."

"You're a real fucking show-off, Parrish."

Adam didn't say anything. Ronan glanced at him, his face looked tight, angry or maybe hurt. Ronan couldn't tell. 

"Maybe I have a few surprises too," Adam said finally.

They'd reached a red light, and Ronan turned to look at him. Whatever Adam had been thinking had passed. He looked amused now.

"I'll let you drive it sometime," Ronan said, shifting as the light turned green. "I'm assuming you know how to drive a stick."

"Now, you've found the one thing that I don't know how to do."

"One thing?" Ronan smirked. "I bet there's a few things I could teach you." His eyes slid back and forth between Adam and the road. Adam's cheeks had turned slightly pink. _Good. He knows I was flirting._

Maybe Adam would've had a cute comeback and they would've flirted for a bit, but he needed to tell Ronan to turn at the next street. After a few more turns, they drove onto a street filled with commercial buildings. 

"Make a right here and it's halfway down the block," Adam instructed. "There's a parking lot. You'll need my keycard to get in."

Ronan used Adam's security badge and pulled into the parking lot. There was only one other car in the parking lot, an electric blue Toyota Prius. Ronan looked at the large, old warehouse that looked abandoned. "Cue ominous music," he said.

Adam laughed.

"Seriously. What the fuck kind of experiments are you doing here? Are you making killer robots? Or experimenting on aliens that crash landed on Earth?"

"This isn't Hollywood. It's not that exciting."

"Yeah, well. If you're really a mad scientist, you wouldn't tell me the truth now, would you?"

Adam laughed again. 

Ronan reclined his seat and took out his phone. "How long do you think you'll be?"

"I don't know - you don't have to wait out here."

"I can't, if someone -"

"Only Blue's in there. Well, there's a guard in the security room, but, honestly, he's probably asleep. If it's a problem or you don't want to come in."

Ronan narrowed his eyes. "Was this your plan all along? To get me inside and use me for your unethical and dangerous experiments?"

"Come on, Lynch." Adam opened the door and got out. "You've spent too much time in the land of make-believe."

The inside didn't match the outside at all. It had clearly been converted only recently and it looked bright and sterile and exactly what secret government research labs looked like in the movies. Adam led him to an elevator and they went down two floors. Going into a sub-basement wasn't reassuring him that Adam wasn't conducting evil experiments to create a new human race. The elevator doors opened and Blue Jane was standing there, looking disheveled.

"Thank god you're here, Ad..." She pointed at Ronan. "Why is he here?"

"I drove," Ronan said, stepping out behind Adam.

"Oh..." She shook her head. "Whatever. It's falling about a quarter of a degree an hour."

Adam and Blue started walking down a hallway. Ronan followed. 

"Humidity levels?" Adam asked.

"Falling even faster."

"That's the real concern," Adam said as he pressed his badge to a reader, simultaneously pushing on it. They walked through. "Did you check the..." Adam's voice faded into the background. All Ronan could see was what was in front of him, behind a glass wall.

He stepped up to the glass. Blinked. And blinked again. "Mother Mary. That's ..."

"Amazing, isn't it?" Blue had come up next to him. He heard furious typing and turned around to see Adam sitting at a computer, leaning in dangerously close to the monitor. His forehead wrinkled and his lips pressed together tightly. 

"It's a fucking forest," Ronan said. "In an abandoned warehouse."

"Well, it's not abandoned if we're using it." 

He shot her an annoyed look and went back to looking out the window. Ronan sucked in his breath when two birds flew by the window. 

"Want to go in?" Blue asked. She motioned her head over her shoulder at Adam. "The Magician's here. Nothing I can do now. He'll be like that for awhile."

"Uh, yeah. Sure."

She grabbed his wrist and led him out of the room. Adam didn't acknowledge them. Didn't even look up. He had his notebook out, the one Ronan had seen him with before, and was running his finger over the equations. They walked further down the hallway into a locker room. She grinned at him and said, "Take your clothes off."

"Sorry, bite-size snickers. You're not my type."

"You're hardly mine either."

"Not nerdy enough for you? Not enough dad jokes and boat shoes?"

"Ugh. Those shoes." She threw a drawstring bag at him. "Take off all your clothes, you can leave your underwear on. Wash your hands and face. Soap's in the bag." She pointed behind him. "Sink's back there. Then put those on."

He saluted her and, when she didn't leave, just stood looking judgmental, he threw off his leather jacket and took off his shirt. As he was toeing off his boots, she spun around and went to a set of lockers on the other side out of sight. There were scrubs and booties in the bag. She was done before he was, waiting for him out in the hall. 

"Do I have to wear this thing?" he asked, holding up a hairnet. She shook her head. He threw it in a nearby trash can. 

"I know it's not very sexy," she said. "It's not a completely sterile environment, but we're cautious to keep external parasites and germs out."

He shrugged. "I've worn worse for filming."

She led him through another door into the forest. The change in environment, from sterile, clean, quiet, to the vivid, vibrant, active colors, sounds, and smells of a living forest was startling. The temperature also increased immediately about twenty degrees, making him glad that he had on only the lightweight scrubs.

Blue led him onto a path that skirted around the density of the trees. Ronan noticed a pair of bright blue large parrots sitting on a tree. 

"That's Mary and Percy," Blue said. "Hyacinth macaws. Watch them when you're around Adam." She looked up at him, smirking. "Mary's got a huge crush on him. She might get jealous."

"Jealous of what?"

She laughed. He frowned.

"Did Adam make this forest?"

"No. He wasn't on the initial research team that started this. He just saved it." She stopped and pointed at an emerald green snake slithering up a tree. "That's Kermit. He's my favorite." 

"How'd he save it?"

"The original research team struggled keeping -"

Adam's voice, overflowing now with Western Virginia vowels, came out of the small, yellow walkie-talkie in Blue's hand. "I've found the problem. It's the river. I need to go the hydraulic's room."

Blue put the walk-in-talkie to her mouth and pressed the side button. "Copy."

"You okay in there?"

"Yes. Ronan's fine," she replied. And laughed again. Ronan frowned again. "Anyway, as I was saying. The goal isn't just to study this sort of ecosystem, but to change it. To find a way to regrow and even create new rainforests. The original research team struggled keeping most of the plant species alive. They couldn't recreate the right atmosphere. The forest was dying when Adam worked it all out. Now, don't ask me how. It's way outside my field of expertise. But he figured out how to keep things from dying and how to get the forest to thrive. In his last year of grad school!" She sounded so proud. She looked around. "He keeps Cabeswater alive."

Ronan stopped. "What did you just say?"

"Adam worked out how to -"

"No. What did you call the forest?"

"Oh. Cabeswater."

"Why do you call it that?"

"Ask Adam. He named it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are appreciated more than you know.
> 
> I know. It's a really slow burn.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inviting Adam to the set had been dangerous. This project had a few secrets.

**A Love Story in Three Acts**

Act. I

_They Meet_

_Cabeswater_. That was all Ronan could think about as he drove a visibly exhausted Adam home. He wanted to talk to him about it, wanted to talk about the beauty of it, the magic of it, wanted to know why Adam named it _Cabeswater_, but Adam could barely keep his eyes open. They weren't driving more than five minutes and he rested his head against the side window and dozed off. He woke up once halfway and mumbled, "hate to be a bother," shifted more onto his right hip, and quieted again. It took a lot of Ronan's willpower to look at the road and not constantly look at Adam, his side-glances were enough to fill him with wishes and hopes, and visions of Adam's beautiful face resting on his chest the way it was rested on that window.

Adam woke up again while Ronan parallel parked the car. He looked out the window and said, "Need a permit to," he yawned, "to park on this block during the day."

"Fuck," Ronan swore. "There wasn't anything on your street. When do I have until?"

"Seven."

The rain had stopped, but the wind felt like ice. They bundled up and hurried around the block to the house. Adam dragged himself up the stairs to the third floor. Ronan followed, making an unfunny joke about Gansey putting in an elevator that didn't get a reply. 

At the top of the steps, at the spot where they needed to separate and go to their rooms, alone, Adam thanked Ronan again.

"Yeah," Ronan said, shrugging, looking at the floor. "No biggie. Gave me something to do."

"Thanks, anyway. I owe you one."

And, without a word or a thought, Ronan leaned in and kissed Adam on the cheek, only a peck, for only a brief second. He didn't know why he did it. He didn't think about doing it. It wasn't his style to do it. He had just done it and, as he moved away, the reality of it hit him like a punch to the gut and he panicked.

Adam stared at him for longer than the kiss had actually happened. Eventually, he opened his mouth, but nothing came out for a moment. He closed it again and swallowed. Ronan, as if he couldn't get any creepier, stared at his Adam's apple. Finally Adam said, "Er, night." 

Ronan stood there and watched him walk off to his bedroom, feeling his skin burn where their stubble had rubbed against each other. _What the ever-loving-fuck was that?_ He'd just kissed Adam like a 12-year-old schoolboy, with a crush, who'd never kissed anyone before. Which, given Ronan's extensive, diverse, and controversial sexual experience, was absolutely ludicrous. 

He looked at his watch. He had three hours before he had to move his car. He could look through those legal papers that Declan was harassing him to review. Or he could drive around, circling the same set of city blocks, shifting gears, over and over, waiting for a spot, clearing his mind. He did that. He did that for two hours and twenty-six minutes.

~ ~ ~

"He kissed me."

"Who?"

"Ronan."

Blue dropped her fork onto her plate, it landed with a loud clang. "Adam Parrish, what is wrong with you? You ate that entire sandwich before saying a word to me about this! When?"

"Last night. After we drove home."

"Was it hot? Or was he a bad kisser? I bet he was a bad kisser. Hot guys like that usually are."

"No - no it wasn't that sort of kiss." Adam had an urge to whisper this, but he didn't. "He kissed me on the cheek."

"Oh, like just a friend thing?"

"Yeah, but... it was different. We were in front of our bedrooms. And does Ronan seem like the sort of guy who goes around kissing people on the cheek as a greeting or a farewell?"

"No. He doesn't. But just a peck? He didn't grab your ass? Rub up against you inappropriately? Whisper filthy things in your ear?"

"Just a peck."

"That's weird. No. Not weird. _Awkward_."

"That's the word for it."

She grabbed a few fries off Adam's plate. And he took the olives she'd picked off her salad from her's.

"Are you going to having sex with him? He's clearly interested, even if his game is extremely weak."

"I don't know. What would we do a friends with benefits thing while he's here? And that's weird and awkward in the house with Noah and Gansey and, yes, I'm well aware that you have sex with Gansey in the house, but you're a couple, not just hooking up."

"Maybe it could turn into you two being a couple."

"No." He shook his head, chuckling at the absurdity of it. "I couldn't live that sort of life. Paps and people always hounding you for your attention. Red carpets and fashion magazines - no, I'd hate it."

"Yeah, but what if you fell in love with him. Those things might be bearable then."

"Fall in love with him?" Adam laughed. "Blue, I hardly know him. We talked a few times and he made me an omelette."

"And bought you a plant!"

"Yeah. Because he almost killed me and then was a dick about about."

"Still, Adam. You never know. It could turn into love and then his lifestyle wouldn't seem so bad, if you got to be with him."

"You know that's not the way the it works. Sure in the beginning it would seem bearable, but relationships are hard, even in the best of circumstances, and when you're in an environment that doesn't make you happy, it'll just seem harder. Then you resent the other person and you argue and end up hating each other - no, I don't see the point of putting myself on a path that will most likely end up in heartbreak and disaster." She didn't respond. So he asked, "You don't agree?"

"I don't know. If you really love someone, you can overlook certain things."

"This isn't you putting up with Gansey's horrible sense of footwear or him sometimes saying dumb things that you know he really doesn't mean. This is paps following you around everywhere. Being recognized all the time. Fans chasing you for autographs. This is gossip bloggers digging into your relationship, digging into my life, digging into my past. "

She nodded and sighed. "I get it. But why don't you do a reading anyway? If you don't want to do your own, I can ask my mom."

"No. I know what's the right thing to do."

"What's that?"

"I'll do what the average, ordinary man would do. Pretend like it never happened."

~ ~ ~

"Do you know what Adam and Blue's project is called?"

Gansey's forehead wrinkled. "I don't know. Blue calls it 'Adam's Forest,' and Adam calls it his 'research project.' Should I?"

Ronan flipped the steak to sear it on the other side. "Cabeswater."

"What? Cabse - what? No, really?"

Ronan nodded. "That's what Sargent said."

"Did you ask Adam about it?"

"No. He was too tired when I drove him home."

Ronan put the steak on a plate and put another in the cast iron pan. Gansey pointed at it. "Did we have that pan?"

"Focus, man. How could Adam know the name Cabeswater?"

"I don't know." Gansey leaned his hip against the counter. "Maybe it's something both of you heard when you were kids. You didn't live far from one another."

Ronan looked at Gansey like he was an idiot. Because he was. 

Gansey sighed. "Right. That's near impossible given your different lifestyles. But I don't know. Maybe on a billboard or on TV."

"Google it. Not one hit."

"I believe you," Gansey replied. 

The second steak went on a plate. Gansey dished out string beans and potatoes next to the steaks. They sat at the island to eat.

"You can have a beer with the steak if you want," Ronan said. "It doesn't bother me."

"No, I -"

"It doesn't make me want a drink anymore than I normally do every minute of every day. Seriously. Have a fucking beer. Finn bought some. They're in the fridge."

"No. It's not right."

Ronan got up, grabbed a beer from the fridge, opened it, and slammed it in front of Gansey. "Drink the goddamn beer, Dick. I know you like one with steak."

Gansey reluctantly took a swig from the bottle. Ronan grabbed for the bottle. "Oh my god, give it to me, Gansey, I must have a drink right now!"

"Alright, you asshole," Gansey said, half-laughing, shoving Ronan off him. "That's enough." He took a bite of the steak and made a noise of approval. He wiped his mouth on his napkin. "You'll just have to ask Adam about Cabeswater."

"Yeah. Don't mention it to him just yet. Okay?" Gansey looked unsure. Ronan added, "I don't know if I want to explain why the name matters." He quickly added, "To a stranger." _Whose skin I can still feel against mine._

"Sure. Okay, Ronan. Let me know though. It's curious. Isn't it?"

Ronan made a noise of agreement. He didn't know what to think. He couldn't think of much else except a stupid, chaste, probably-meant-nothing-at-all kiss and he had to shake that shit off now. The weather let up. Filming started tonight. He had to be on set in a few hours. He needed to be focused on his work. It was the most important thing he'd ever done in his life. It was something he wanted. He couldn't sabotage it like he had everything else in his life.

~ ~ ~

On Saturday night, Adam was up late grading papers when he heard footsteps on the stairs coming up to the third floor. It hadn't been hard to pretend that nothing had happened when Adam hadn't seen Ronan in days. Filming had started and he only heard Ronan occasionally in the bathroom early in the morning. Adam was curious how Ronan would act or if he would say something about the awkward kiss at all. He left his bedroom - he really did have to pee - and saw a blond man wearing large tortoiseshell glasses just reaching the top of the steps.

The man stopped immediately and smiled brightly. "You must be Adam! I'm Lloyd. Ronan's PA."

Aesthetically, Lloyd was the exact opposite of his employer, clean-shaven with thick blond hair parted on the side. He wore faded loose jeans cuffed at the ankle, perfectly polished dark brown loafers, a yellow vest over a crisp white shirt buttoned to the neck with a pink and yellow plaid bow-tie, the strap of an antique brown leather messenger bag slung across his chest. He looked like summer.

"Hi," Adam said, offering his hand. Lloyd shook it, looking over Adam from head to toe, making Adam feel self-conscious in his sweats and sweatshirt. 

"His highness left his iPad here," Lloyd said. "He told me to be quiet so not to wake you."

"Oh, no. You didn't I was up."

Lloyd pointed towards Ronan's door. "That's his -"

"Yeah."

"Thanks."

Adam went to the bathroom and when he came out Lloyd was just exiting Ronan's room. Adam stopped before going into his room. "How's filming going?"

"Filming's fine. Ronan thinks it's not and is cranky as fuck." He shrugged. "Everything's normal."

"Oh, that's good. Well, night."

Lloyd winked. "Night, handsome."

Adam went back into his room, blushing,

~ ~ ~

When Blue found out that Gansey's family had a decorating service decorate the brownstone for Christmas, she had a fit and insisted that they decorate it themselves and that included Adam and Noah. Sunday afternoon, while Ronan slept after a long night of filming, they all went out to buy a real Christmas tree and wreath. Noah found vintage decorations in the storage room at the back of the basement and him and Adam hauled them upstairs, while Gansey and Blue setup the tree in the main living room in front of the window.

Adam found the decorations interesting. He studied them as he pulled them from the box and laid them out carefully on the floor for Gansey and Blue to take and put on the tree. Christmas music played softly from Noah's phone. 

"Oh, hey," Gansey said.

Adam looked up to see Ronan standing there, looking like he hadn't shaved _anything_ in several days. It left him looking scruffy and tired. He grunted at Gansey and flopped down on the couch, stretching one leg out long the length of it. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

"You filming tonight?" asked Gansey.

"Yeah."

"Where?" Blue asked.

"Museum of Natural History."

"How's filming going?" Gansey asked.

Ronan replied sharply, "What the fuck is this twenty-fucking-questions?"

Blue gave him a nasty look that he couldn't see. Gansey only rolled his eyes. Noah chuckled to himself.

Appearing unfazed by Ronan's sharpness, Noah and Gansey went back to what they were doing. Blue and Adam exchanged a look. Blue leant in to whisper something to Gansey. Adam got up, annoyed and a bit angry, and went to the kitchen. Lynch seemed to be in a foul mood and Adam wasn't in the mood for it. They'd been having a nice evening; Adam had been enjoying watching them all decorate and laugh. He hadn't celebrated many Christmases in his time and he'd had a strong feeling that this would be the last one that they'd all be together like this in this house. The feeling had come to him earlier that morning and, before they'd headed out for the tree. When they returned, he'd stolen a few moments and pulled out his cards to do a short three card reading. The cards had confirmed his feeling. Something was about to change in the dynamics of the group, and Adam didn't like it. He'd finally settled into a comfortable relationship with Gansey and Noah. Ronan bursting in just now, with his attitude and cool exterior magnified the feelings of change in the air, and had left Adam feeling like he'd been dunked into a bathtub filled with ice.

In the kitchen, he pulled out two slices of cold pizza from the fridge, wrapped it in foil, and placed it in the toaster over. A few minutes later, Ronan came into the kitchen, looked at Adam, looked at the toaster. He scowled, creating deep, jagged lines in his forehead, grabbed the pizza out of the toaster and threw it in the trash.

"Hey!" Adam shouted.

"Shut up, Parrish. I did you a favor throwing away that junk." He crouched down and opened a cabinet. "I have to eat, so I might's well make food for everyone." He stood with a deep pot in his hand and started filling it with water. He brushed by Adam, nudging him out of the way, and grabbed two saucepans and a frying pan out of another cabinet. Adam, who was still trying to process what had just happened, seemed to be in his way again as Ronan stood there glaring at him. "Go sit down or go back in the living room. But stay out of my way please."

"Are you serious?"

"I can fish the cold pizza out of the garbage or..." Ronan slid a bag of pasta that Adam hadn't noticed from the corner of the counter. "Fresh pasta from A. Litteri. Your choice?"

Shaking his head at the boldness of this man, Adam sat down at the island. Neither of them spoke. Adam simply observed. Ronan had taken two containers of sauce out of the fridge. One had an "X" scribbled in black on it. He poured each one into the saucepans and covered them. The large pot sat on the stove waiting to boil. He heated up the frying pan and put four sausages into it. Ronan cooked, seeming unconcerned or bothered by Adam's presence. Adam figured it was because he was used to being watched. It gave Adam a chance to study him some more. Ronan had lost some weight and muscle since the movie _The Folsom Five_. He still had definition in his muscles, but they weren't as big as they'd looked in the movie. They flexed and rolled nicely under his black muscle tee. 

Adam remembered the first time he'd been attracted to a boy. At fourteen, he certainly hadn't been looking for something else to make him feel different, but there was handsome Josh Lewis and his back muscles giving him another reason to feel isolated from his peers. The revelation that he was attracted to men, in addition to women, happened at a pool. Adam always hated it'd been such a cliche. He'd been standing there minding his own business, waiting for his turn on the lane, when Josh came up and stood in front of Adam while he stretched his shoulders. Josh's tight, strong back muscles had captured Adam's eyes and his dick. There had been No easing into it for Adam, no wondering if he was attracted to men because he had gotten butterflies in his stomach when his biology teacher complimented him. Nope. Not for Adam Parrish. He'd seen those back muscles and got hard as a rock. For once, Adam had been glad that he was practically invisible to his classmates, so he'd been able to slip away and take care of his problem unnoticed. 

In the story of his life though, it had been a simple normal embarrassing teenage moment and he'd come unscathed. He couldn't complain. And he still had a thing for back muscles. That tantalizing image of Ronan's bare back from the movie was seared into his mind. More than once, Adam has fantasized about learning the design of his tattoo with his fingers, with his lips and with his tongue. The movie had become his sole masturbation fodder.

Ronan snapped his fingers in front of his face. "Earth to Parrish."

"Oh sorry, I was -"

"Don't care about whatever sciencey, nerdy ass thing you were thinking about. If you want to be useful, you can make the salad. There's everything you need in the bottom bin. You do know how to make a salad?"

"Fuck off, Lynch," Adam replied, but he was already standing and moving towards the fridge. Before he got back to the island with the lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, and red onion, Ronan had pulled out a bowl, a knife, a vegetable peeler, a cutting board. Ronan knew their kitchen better than anyone who lived here.

Ronan held out his hand . "Gimme the lettuce. I'll wash it."

Adam peeled and sliced and thought about the kiss from the other night, trying and failing to think of a way to bring it up that wasn't awkward or weird. The onion was the last thing he had to do. He took a deep breath and dove in, cutting it in half first, then a quarter before slicing it thinly. By the time he started on the third quarter, his face was wet with tears and he had to keep inhaling deeply to stop snot from pouring out of his nose. 

He finished and looked up. Ronan was smiling at him, not a mocking smile, but a warm one, almost fond. He handed Adam two paper towels, folded into a small square, and wet with cold water.

"Thanks for taking one for the team," Ronan said. "I can't go on set looking like," he waved his hand at Adam's face, "that."

"Oh thanks," Adam said sarcastically, putting the squares on his eyes. The cold felt good. He leaned down, putting his elbows on the island and pressed them harder into his eyes. He heard Ronan moving about the kitchen, the grease from the sausages snapping, the water, now filled with penne pasta, boiling, all the smells of the food. Something about it felt entirely new, but comfortable.

"What happened?" 

Adam took off the paper towels. Blue stood there, looking serious. "Onions," Ronan and Adam answered together. She looked suspicious for a moment. Adam gave her an 'it's okay' look and her face relaxed. Gansey came up behind her. They set the table, while Adam and Ronan finished in the kitchen. 

"This is the meatless one," Ronan said as he poured the sauce on the pasta that Adam had dished out onto plates. Ronan sounded annoyed. Ronan, who had been considerate enough to buy - or had he made the sauce himself prior to tonight? - meatless sauce, sounded pissy about it. Adam wondered what it took to understand Ronan or what did he have to give Ronan in return for Ronan to let himself be understood. 

Halfway through dinner, Lloyd showed up and started bossing Ronan around. "Jesus Christ! I have get you in the make-up chair in forty-two minutes! For-ty! Two! Minutes!" 

Ronan got up from the table, with no hurry. "Shut the fuck up, Lloyd. Stop being such a damn stereotype." 

Lloyd held his ground, seemingly unaffected by Ronan's attitude. "For-ty one minutes now."

"Help them clean-up," Ronan called over his shoulder. 

Ronan went upstairs, leaving Lloyd to grab Ronan's plate and start to eat what Ronan had left. The others at Lloyd's insistence went back to decorating. Adam stayed in the dining room with Lloyd, both to be polite and not leave a guest in their home alone, and, also, because he was curious about Lloyd and his relationship with Ronan.

"It must suck working for Ronan," Adam said.

"Not at all," Lloyd replied. 

"Really? He doesn't seem very polite."

"Fuck polite, darling. Ronan's an asshole with almost no social skills or concept on how normal people behave. He's moody and unpredictable and loyal and so kind sometimes that it breaks my heart. People would literally kill for this job. And I do mean _literally_." Lloyd talked with his hands and he had several gestures that he used for emphasis. "This total psychopath, Courtney, tried to run me off the rode on Mulholland Drive when it was down to me and her in the interview process." 

"Someone actually tried to _murder_ you? Why?"

"Because Ronan pays a hell of a lot of money to his people. His last assistant, Pamela, retired at thirty. I mean..." Lloyd rolled his eyes. "She was his assistant through The Troubles, so she certainly deserved to have peace in her twilight years."

"The Troubles?"

"Oh you want the tea!" Grinning, Lloyd opened his messenger bag and pulled out a reusable water bottle. Waving it in the air, he said, "No tea, but this will do." He took a long drink from it. "His troubled period with causal drugs, _serious_ drinking, and," he pulled a face and added, his voice dripping with disdain, "_fucking Kavinsky_. Anyway. Why? Because Ronan gives all his employees a decent cut of his salary and profits from his movies."

"That's unusual?"

"Fuck yeah." Lloyd began piling the plates on top of one another. Adam helped by putting the utensils on the top plate. They both stood and went into the kitchen. "Hollywood's full of self-centered narcissists," Lloyd continued. "Ronan might be an asshole, but he's not up his own ass. So, Pamela got to retire - bought some villa in Italy - and I'm going to New York to be a stage manager on Broadway. Or that's the dream. I've saved enough to get an apartment in Manhattan, take shitty work for the experience, while I try to compete for jobs with kids fresh out of college."

After a short tussle over loading the dishwasher, which Lloyd won, Adam, like he did earlier while he watched Ronan cook, sat at the island. They chatted about D.C. and Adam gave Lloyd recommendations for restaurants and decent gay bars. The doorbell rang and Adam heard a deep Irish accent soon after in the living room.

Lloyd had finished cleaning and opened up a bag of cookies, holding it out for Adam to take a few. "You really didn't know he was a huge movie star?" he asked.

It was hard to explain to people that things like movies and TV weren’t part of his life as a child. His family couldn’t afford them. They were as unattainable as a diamond or a new car. He'd only been able to read books because of school and the free public library. 

"Really," Adam said.

"You really are precious."

Adam tensed. 

"Oh, yeah, no, I'm not making fun of you, sweetie. Ronan's told me that you're a real genius and trying to do something that really matters, unlike us shallow people. And as far as that accent you're hiding..." Lloyd's voice changed to a country accent with a twang. "I'm an okie from muskogee myself. So, no judgement from me on that."

"You're from Oklahoma?"

"Yep. And we all know that only two things come outta Oklahoma, steers and queers, and I don't have any horns." He laughed at himself. "_An Officer and a Gentleman_?"

Adam shook his head.

"See precious. And I mean that kindly." Lloyd's accent was gone. He put his hand on top of Adam's. "Really, I do."

"What the fuck, Lloyd?" Ronan stomped into the kitchen, smelling deliciously fresh from a shower. "I don't pay you to flirt with my friends."

"Oh, look, his highness is ready! And I wasn’t flirting.” Lloyd winked at Adam. "I was getting to know Adam. All this time you’ve spent on this planet, you’d think you’d have picked up some understanding of human behavior.” Ronan actually growled at him. Lloyd brushed by Ronan, grinning. “You know that only turns me on.” He walked out laughing and called out over his shoulder, “We’re leaving in three!”

Adam stood too. "Excuse me," he said, heading to the powder room in the hallway. He needed a moment to regroup away from the emotional ups and downs of being in Ronan Lynch's orbit.

When he exited the powder room, Ronan was standing in the hallway, facing the sounds of laughter from the living room. There was a look on his face, one that Adam recognized well. Ronan was feeling like an outsider. Adam felt a new connection with Ronan, something strong, something more than physical. 

Adam hadn't been the only one looking tonight. Ronan had looked too. And looked. And got caught looking. He couldn't understand why Ronan was interested in him, but it was becoming obvious that he was, so, _what the hell_. Friends with benefits could work. He _would_ make it work because he couldn't argue with his urges anymore. 

He approached Ronan. "Hey." 

Ronan looked at him. "Hey."

Adam reached out and tugged gently on the bottom of Ronan's leather jacket, letting his hand pause on it for just a few seconds before letting go, a move an ex had done to him once and he'd found incredibly sexy. "Thanks for dinner and for considering me with the meatless sauce."

"You want to come?"

"Excuse me?" Adam's heart pounded.

"To the set. Tonight."

"Yeah. Sure. Okay."

"Okay. Good. Okay then."

_Well, okay._

~ ~ ~

Adam Parrish made Ronan's impulse control go straight to fucking hell. He kept doing things without thinking about them. There was a time that behavior had got him into serious trouble. From the make-up chair, he looked over at Adam, sitting several feet away, talking to Lloyd and the director's PA. He knew Adam was dangerous. Not like drinking or Kavinsky had been to Ronan's actual life. Adam was dangerous to something more important to Ronan: his heart.

Adam smiled at him.

_Danger._

Ronan smiled back.

_Danger. Danger._

Adam had been flirting. There was no doubt about it. Ronan wasn't sure if it was only a game to Adam or not. Ronan was sick and fucking goddamn tired of games. He'd spent years punishing himself by going against his natural inclinations towards loyalty and love and commitments; he'd lived carelessly, casually, senselessly. That was all over. He wanted relationships with substance and meaning. He didn't fight and claw and scream and humiliate himself out of the gutter to settle for anything less than that.

Inviting Adam to the set had been dangerous. This project had a few secrets. One of those secrets, something Ronan hadn't even told Gansey, was that he was Executive Producer of the movie and the primary financier. The director Anna, a good friend to Ronan, was working well below her usual salary, but he'd got her to sign-on by offering her a nice chunk of the profits and total control of the final cut. She was pure, fresh talent and, most importantly to Ronan, she didn't give a shit about what people thought. She did what the fuck she wanted with her work, and Ronan trusted her enough to give her that control. The shooting schedule had been done carefully to best utilize the other actors and keep costs down. It was an indie of a movie as you can get. And Ronan was in absolutely in love with it all.

Lloyd pulled a chair up next to Ronan and asked the make-up artist to give them a minute. "He has to sign an NDA." Ronan glared. Lloyd ignored him. "I love your trusting, beautiful, romantic heart, Ronan Lynch, but this isn't just about you. He's on set. He has to sign an NDA. He's smart. He's sensible." Lloyd's voice dropped down low, "And Jesus Christ, Ronan, those eyes and those cheekbones."

"Leave me the fuck alone, Lloyd. You're annoying me."

"And you love me and you can't live without me. He'll understand. Now, here." He stood and handed Ronan a large bottle of water. "You look dehydrated drink."

Ronan watched Lloyd hand the NDA to Adam. They talked for a few minutes, Adam nodding. Lloyd left and Adam put his head down to read the document. 

After make-up, Ronan only had a few minutes to ask if Adam was alright. He said he was, and Ronan headed off to get ready for the scene. It was the usual boring stuff, waiting for the light and sound people to get everything right. The first scene they were shooting was between Ronan and another actor. Ronan didn't know the guy well, and small talk wasn't something that Ronan did well or enjoyed, but he made an effort to help pass the time for both of them. 

They did four takes. Ronan and Anna reviewed the film and Anna said editing could surely pull a few things from it, but that she wanted more. She was good at getting emotions out of Ronan. He'd always hated watching himself act. It made him want to crawl out of his skin. The only way he'd dealt with every one of his premieres was by getting shitfaced. But with Anna directing him, he actually could watch himself and see how much better of an actor she helped him become.

The make-up artist was back, refreshing his foundation, when he saw Adam, sitting on a chair near the food table. He had a cup of coffee in his hand and a hard copy of the script in his other hand. _Fuck._ Adam was about to find out his second secret about this project.

~ ~ ~

There weren't many people on set. Which Adam liked. It gave him the ability to watch and learn. He wanted to talk to all of the people working on the set about the engineering of how they set up a scene. He found the process fascinating. But, most of all, he was fascinated by Ronan. Adam had no idea what was going on in the scene they were shooting, but he was transfixed by Ronan nonetheless. Wardrobe had put Ronan in clothes a size too big for him and it gave him the look of being too thin. Make-up had put brown contacts in his eyes an covered the scar that ran through his eyebrow. It wasn't primarily the physical transformation though that had left Ronan unrecognizable. Ronan was acting. Really _acting_. Watching them shoot the scene a few times had left Adam forgetting that he was even watching the same guy who'd cooked him pasta a few hours ago.

Ronan's character was withdrawn into himself and so small, so lifeless, so the opposite of Ronan. He hadn't even realized that he had known that about Ronan, known that Ronan was filled with so much powerful energy, until it had disappeared.

Ronan and the other actor in the scene were shooting the scene by Henry, the 13-foot elephant displayed in the rotunda at the museum. The other actor was taunting Ronan's character for coming to the museum. "You're pathetic. Did you think he'd be here? Did you think he lived here, just staying here waiting for you?"

Lloyd had set Adam up in a chair not far from a table filled with drinks and food. From his chair, he watched each take, cataloged each change in Ronan's performance, noted the change in his usual speech patterns, how his shoulders hung differently, how he moved without his usual confidence. Ronan was truly hidden beneath this character. 

"Hey." Lloyd was standing there holding out a coffee cup. "Black?"

"Perfect." 

"Here." Lloyd handed him a script already opened. "They're filming these two scenes tonight. I thought you might like to catch-up."

"Yeah. Thanks. I was a little lost, but I can still see Ronan's really good, like really, really good."

Lloyd beamed. "He is, isn't he? I knew he had it in him."

Lloyd had folded the pages back to the scene they were shooting. Adam read through the scene. He'd read a few plays throughout his academic career, mostly Shakespeare, but a few Arthur Miller, some Pinter, and Equus by Peter Schaffer. Watching the scene unfurl before him after reading it was a much more interesting and immersive experience. 

They were setting up the scene in a different spot, giving Adam time to flick to the start of the script and start reading.

"Hey, Adam."

Adam looked up, startled. It took him a minute to pull himself out of the story to realize that it had been Finn talking to him.

Finn smiled at him. "Ronan wanted me to check with you to see if you wanted me to drive you home. It's getting late."

Adam looked at his watch, then he looked around. They'd setup in the new location for the scene and another actor had joined them; Adam knew what was happening now. Aaron, Ronan's character, kept coming back to this museum because it was the last place he'd been with his father, before his father had abandoned him. The actors, acting opposite Ronan in the scene, were supposed to be a ghosts, or more specifically, past lives of Aaron. _But_ the ghosts - there were more several of them - were essentially manifestations of Aaron's depression, insecurities, addictions, and suicidal thoughts. 

"Not right now, Finn." It was getting late and he had work in the morning, but it was the last week before winter break. He could plow through a little tired. He could plow through anything a lot tired. "How about 11:30?" That would give him time to finish the script - because he needed to finish it tonight; it was that good.

"Sure. No worries."

Adam needed a refill on his coffee. He closed the script and left it on his seat. Lloyd saw him get up and met him at the table. "Soooooo... how do you like the script?"

"It's really good. Admittedly, I don't know a lot about movies, but I read a lot and I know a great story when I read one. And this is a great story."

"Ask Ronan to bring you back again. We're shooting at Thomas Circle Thursday night before we wrap."

"I will, if I ca," Adam replied as he walked back to his seat.

The script sat on his chair. Closed now. Title page facing upward. Adam looked down as he picked it up and he learned Ronan's second secret about the movie.

WE ALL DIE

Written By  
Ronan N. Lynch

~ ~ ~

It wasn't that difficult for Adam to get up in the morning, knowing that soon he'd have a significantly reduced schedule for three weeks. He'd still have to work on his research and put time in at the lab, but his university work would be on break until after the new year.

The first thing he thought of when he woke up was Ronan's movie. The story, like Ronan's character Aaron, was delicate and depressing, but it had woven in these fine threads of hope and healing. The story didn't end neatly, tied up in a pretty package with a bow, like most Hollywood endings. Aaron wasn't even close to being healthy, but he was still alive. And he'd started to believe that, even with his pain and his mental illness, he deserved that - he deserved to be alive. 

Adam couldn't wait to go back to the set on Thursday.

Downstairs, Adam saw that the Christmas tree lights were lit. He went to turn them off, but stopped when he saw Ronan sprawled out on the sofa. He was back to looking like Ronan, in jeans and a black tee, his black leather bands back on his wrists. He had one leg on the sofa, his other was hanging off. On arm was above his head, the other laid across his stomach. His eyes were closed.

Adam hadn't had a chance to talk to him before he'd left the set. It'd been obvious that the director wasn't happy with the scene and Ronan seemed stressed. So, Adam had left quietly with Finn after asking Lloyd to tell Ronan he'd see him at home.

Assuming Ronan was asleep, Adam turned to leave. 

"Well?" Ronan's voice was rough and gravelly; his eyes still closed.

Adam walked over to the sofa. Ronan opened his eyes. He swung his other leg off and sat up. Adam sat down next to him.

"Ronan, it's brilliant."

Ronan smiled, first small, but Adam smiled back, bigger, and Ronan matched it and surpassed it, until his smile was brighter than the lights on the tree.

"Yeah? You liked it?"

"Yes. A lot. The ghosts of past lives as an allegory for mental illnesses and addiction is so smart and then shooting it around Christmas time is perfect. I mean you could have went heavy-handed there with a Christmas Carol theme, but you didn't. No one even mentions that it's Christmas in the entire story. Like the Christmas setting is just there in the background. Because anyone who suffers from that sort of loneliness knows how much worse it gets around the holidays. And it's great that Aaron's past lives aren't all cis white men! Because if reincarnation was real, it wouldn't work that way."

"My favorite scene is the one where Aaron's about to inject heroin and the little girl ghost asks him, _'Why do you hate you?'_ and Aaron replies, _'I don't. That's what's so fucked up.'_ and then he does the drug anyway. It's so powerful because that's what's it's like, right? You don't have to hate yourself to do unhealthy things. You might hate yourself after because you did them, but hating yourself isn't what's driving you to do them."

Ronan had watched him the entire time he was talking. His hand were fidgeting, playing with his bands on his wrist, but he never took his eyes off Adam. "Tell me one thing that you didn't like," he said.

"It's not that I didn't like it, but I think you could get rid of the ex-lover stalking Aaron with texts and voicemails and you still have the same story."

"Explain."

"The story isn't about Aaron and his ex-lover. It's about how Aaron can destroy himself without anyone's help. Therefore, the ex-lover harassment storyline just doesn't really fit. He's not the one pushing Aaron close to the edge. Aaron's mental illness is doing that."

"My director said the same thing."

"Oh. Good. I didn't want to hurt your feelings. Because, Ronan, it really is so good. Oh, but there's one more thing."

"I asked for _one_ thing, not _two_ things."

"Okay, if you don't -"

"Just say it."

"The scene when Aaron's punching the wall and his friend stops him, I think it'd be more powerful and more true to the story if the friend didn't try to stop him. Because Aaron has to fight his own demons. His friend can be there for him, but he can't stop Aaron from hurting himself."

"Fuck you, Parrish."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you or anything, I only -"

"You didn't offend me. You're right. That would make that scene more powerful. I'm just pissed because you're a fucking math and science genius and you can think creatively like that too. That's not fucking fair for the rest of us."

Adam felt himself blushing. "I don't think I could start from nothing, like you did. Not all editors can write."

Ronan shrugged, his fingers were back under his bands, rolling them around his wrist. "Listen, I didn't tell Gansey and Noah yet that I wrote the script. I will today. It's not right that you know and they don't."

"Hey, you invited me, I didn't -"

"That's not what I meant! I know what I did. I don't mind you knowing or that you found out first. It just doesn't feel right that they don't know now."

"Okay. Understood."

"Lloyd said you want to come to set on Thursday night."

That wasn't how Adam remembered the conversation going, but he said, "Yeah. I do," anyway. "It was great to see you acting too. You are so different from your other..." 

Ronan tilted his head. "My other what, Parrish?"

Adam bit his bottom lip and shook his head, feeling dumb for having said too much.

"Did you watch one of my other movies?"

"Of course, I did."

"Which one did you watch?" Ronan asked, his voice mocking. 

"The Folsom Five," Adam said in a completely natural and casual way.

Ronan laughed, a new laugh that Adam had never heard before. It was light and real and it tugged at Adam's heart.

"Interesting that you picked that particular movie out of all my movies." Ronan leaned in, so close that Adam could see the white lights from the tree reflected in the mix of blue and gray in his eyes. _He's going to kiss me. And I'm going to let him._

But Ronan didn't kiss him. He asked, "Why Cabeswater?"

"What?"

"Cabeswater. Why did you name your forest Cabeswater?"

Adam sat back, he needed a few seconds to shift from the path he thought they were traveling on to the one Ronan had veered them off to. "You'll make fun of me again."

"No. I won't."

"It's more _'hocus-pocus'_."

"I won't make fucking fun of you. Man, I promise."

"Alright. I told you that I read cards. I can also scry."

"Scry? Like with a crystal ball?"

"Sometimes, but mostly water or light work best for me."

"And you see the future?"

"Not really. I see all sorts of things. A lot of things that I don't understand. The summer after my first year at college, I went and stayed with Blue's family and that's when I learned how to scry. That summer, while scrying, I kept being taken to a forest. I felt - it made me feel like it needed me to protect it - to protect all forests - that it was important and that it trusted me to do it." Adam paused. He was telling Ronan something that only Blue knew. Ronan had entrusted him with a secret - fair is fair. "It told me its name is Cabeswater."

The name seemed heavy, it hung in the air, in their silence. Adam looked at Ronan for a response.

"Cool story, Parrish," Ronan said, standing up. "I've got to get some sleep. See you Thursday."

Adam sat there, listening to Ronan run up the steps, once again attempting to work out Ronan Lynch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Sorry this chapter took so long. I hope you enjoyed it! Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam and Ronan talk a lot about their problems. To other people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry. The slow burn continues.

**A Love Story in Three Acts**

Act. I

_They Meet_

Filming at Thomas Circle had Ronan jittery and on edge. It was the most public place they'd filmed yet, his invitation to Adam had someone expanded to include everyone living in the brownstone plus Blue, it was freezing and it had started to snow, not heavy, but they were large, fluffy flakes. Anna and the cinematographer were thrilled about the last part. They said it would really make for a good shot. Ronan wasn't so sure.

They had two scenes to film here. One that they'd film later, in the early morning light, would be within the timeline of the story. The scene they were filming tonight was a flashback. They had all the correct permits to block off the pedestrian areas to film and they'd hired a security firm to keep people as far away as they could. But the fear of being outed on this location was making Ronan nervous, though he knew he was barely recognizable. Since the scene occurred in the past, Anna had wanted Ronan to have longer hair, but he took one look at himself in the wig and said, "No fucking way." Lloyd had backed him up that it looked ridiculous. They'd settled on a baseball cap with short hairs attached to it to give the appearance of longer hair. 

Anna had asked Ronan three times already to stop moving around so they could get the lighting right. She kept asking what was wrong, but Ronan couldn't articulate it. He hadn't even realized, until now, how much he'd been dreading shooting this scene. It was a defining moment in his character's life, with actions that had consequences he would feel forever. Also because this scene had been the start of this journey. The first scene he'd written for the script, in the middle of his recovery, sitting in the rehab center, sober and shaking, the taste of bile still lingering in his mouth, he'd scribbled it out feverishly onto a yellow legal pad. He should've been better prepared to deal with this tonight. A meeting right before, a call to his sponsor, or a call to his therapist. He hadn't been thinking. _Again._

They'd finally got the shot set-up. Ronan took his mark. The clapperboard snapped. Aaron is walking around the monument when a man, a stranger, bumps into him. Aaron's visibly drunk and the man asks if he needs help, but Aaron is too proud and angry and sees the man's offer to help as pity. He starts shouting at the man. When the man, argues back, Aaron shoves him. The man calls Aaron a loser. Aaron, who had been trained by his father how to fight, punches the man so hard that he knocks him out. The man falls to the pavement, hitting his head, causing a permanent traumatic brain injury. 

Aaron is only seventeen.

After the first take, the stuntman working with Ronan praised him for how well he threw the punch. They shot three takes when Anna called a break. Ronan argued back at her. 

"Lynch, take a break. Go back to you trailer and get warm. I'll call you back in twenty."

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine," Anna said, her voice determined. "You're not pulling those punches like you should be. Someone's going to get hurt."

"I'm fine."

"Okay, asshole. Then you keep acting here all by yourself, but everyone else is taking a break." 

She left him standing there, looking stupid. He walked off, angry, heading for the trailer. Two security guys showed up at his side. As he waited for the painfully long traffic light to change, Anna approached him again. "Seriously, Ronan, really. Are you okay? We can call it."

"No fucking way. We have the permits and we're set up for this scene. No."

"You didn't answer me. Are you okay?" 

This wasn't a general question. When Ronan had asked her to sign-on to the project, she'd requested they sit down and talk about the story. She was the best and she needed to get inside Ronan's head and what he was thinking and feeling when he wrote it. She knew mostly everything about Ronan and this story and how his emotions and life and struggles were intertwined into it. She knew what this scene represented for him, how Ronan's drinking and anger had blown up his entire world, caused pain and damage to his family and his friends. To himself. The man Aaron injures in the scene represents all the people and things that Ronan had hurt.

"You're right," Ronan said, knowing he couldn't lose her on this project. "I need some time."

"Alright. Take thirty then. Let me know if you need more."

He headed across the street where five production trailers (one for makeup and wardrobe, one for equipment, one for cast and crew, one for Anna, and one for Ronan) were blocking almost an entire small street, next to the National City Christian Church. The security guards lingered behind him a few feet. 

Adam stood outside his trailer, bundled up from the cold, a cup of coffee in his hands, snow piling up on his hat. No one else was around and Ronan assumed they'd gone inside to escape the weather.

"What are you doing out here?" Ronan asked. 

"Watching the scene."

"We're taking a break. Let's get inside. It's freezing."

"I'm fine," Adam said, not looking at Ronan, staring across the street back to where the film crew were milling around. His expression was weird. Adam's neutral expression was usually guarded, but this was like looking at a stonewall. 

Ronan opened the door and waited for Adam, but he didn't move. "What the fuck?" 

"I said I'm fine out here."

"Parrish, stop dicking around. Get the fuck inside."

Adam finally turned to look at him. His eyes were hard and cold, his jaw clenched. Ronan had thought he'd seen Adam angry the night they first met, but this was something else entirely. 

"Why the fuck do you care where I am?"

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. I don't give a fuck. Freeze your balls off then!"

Adam's nostrils flared. He turned and walked down the street in a long strides. Ronan felt someone behind him. Blue stood inside the doorway, glaring at him. "Smooth, Lynch."

"Fuck off!" Ronan snapped. 

"Ronan!" Gansey shouted as Ronan crashed into the trailer, stomping by everyone to the back and into a small bathroom. He took the stupid baseball hat off, throwing it in the sink, Everything inside of him was going numb. He couldn't process what had just happened or what he was really feeling because all he wanted was a drink. He tried to think about how many days it had been since he had one, but there were too many, too many days, too many to count right now, his brain was telling him he could handle a drink. Just one. Only one. One to get him through tonight.

He saw a bottle of mouthwash on the side of the sink. He'd heard the stories in rehab and at AA meetings, alcoholics so desperate they drank mouthwash for the alcohol. He'd never been that low. Was he that low now?

_Fuck._ Ronan's broken brain wanted him to pour gasoline on his life and light a match. There were already so many ashes, piles and piles of them that Ronan was trying so hard to build a new life on top of them.

_One second at a time. One second. Just get through right now. This second._

And this second he wasn't drinking. This second he wanted a drink. But this second he wasn't drinking. Right this second was him sitting on a toilet, not drinking. In a trailer, not drinking. He took a deep breath and made it another few seconds without drinking. This second, he took the mouthwash and poured it down the sink, because this second he wasn't that low. The next second, he stood up. The next second, he walked back out to his friends. 

He couldn't see Blue, all he could see was Gansey's back, but he knew she was in front of him, while Gansey, like he'd done a thousand and one times before, made excuses for his behavior. 

This second, he wasn't going drink. This second, he was going to be the decent human being he wanted to be. "Hey, Sargent." Blue stepped to the side to face him. She'd put on her coat. "I'm sorry." Gansey looked more surprised than she did. "You didn't deserve that."

"See," Gansey said. "I told you sometimes he just -"

"Yo, Gansey, man, quit it. Stop making excuses for me. I'm not a kid anymore." From the smug look on Blue's face, he'd also just won points by making her right in their argument. 

Gansey shrugged, looking proud, but also hurt. Ronan wondered if Gansey needed a Co-dependent anonymous meeting or maybe Al-Anon. But he sure as shit knew he needed a meeting as soon as he could get to one.

He'd made it through another second without a drink. Now, he faced the next second without a drink. He sat at the small table next to Noah, who'd been unusually quiet through the events that had just unfolded. Blue took off her coat and sat opposite them. Noah had a Five Guys burger and fries spread out before him. Ronan grabbed a few fries and shoved them in his mouth. He grabbed his phone and texted Finn, "Check meeting times." He didn't need to text more. Finn knew.

He put his phone down and looked from one of them to the other. "Well?"

Gansey and Blue started talking at once, at the same time: Blue asking questions, Gansey telling him how great the scene had gone. Noah, still quiet, picked up Ronan's phone, swiped around and typed something into it. He put it back down. Ronan picked it up. A new message was open address to 'Adam', who hadn't been in his contacts a moment ago.

"Later," Ronan said quietly. He couldn't deal with that in _this_ second. Maybe, in a future second. But not in this second. In this second, he only needed not to drink.

~ ~ ~

"And I woke up in the dugout of my old high school's baseball field... while a game was going on!"

Everyone laughed. Not at the guy sharing with the group, but with him. They'd all had stories like that, weird places they'd woken up after a binge.

Rob, who Ronan had found out was a waiter in one of the best restaurants in town, looked around the sparse late-night group. "Would anyone else care to share?"

Sitting there like always, looking causal and entirely too relaxed, slumped in his seat, one leg stretched out long in front of him, the other foot planted flat on the floor. Ronan half-raised his hand. He saw a few of the regulars exchange glances. He'd never spoken before.

"I'm Ronan and I'm an alcoholic." It wasn't the sort of group that responded with a "HI, RONAN!" (Thank fucking Jesus), so there were a few seconds of silence before Ronan spoke again. He sat up, leaned over and crossed his arms over his knees, his eyes on his boots. "I haven't had a drink in one thousand and thirty-four days." Had it really only been fourteen days since he'd met Parrish? "That's also how long it's been since I've - um... had - been physical with anyone. They told me at the rehab it's better for my recovery to wait a year before getting into a romantic relationship. Focus on myself and shit." 

He laughed to himself. He looked up, glancing at a few of the other members. "That year turned into this. I started to think that maybe I had to be shitfaced to be able to... I don't know. Don't know what I was fucking thinking. But then I met someone and... and he's way the fuck out of my league, but I thought we clicked." Ronan leaned back into the chair, back to his usual careless posture. "Anyway, I went and acted like a dick tonight and probably fucked-up any chance I had, and I wanted a drink so bad that I was making heart-eyes at a bottle of mouthwash. But I didn't drink it. And I'm here. So there's that. Yeah... that's - thanks."

No one clapped. Ronan was glad for that too. Most meetings did it, and he's sure people responded to it, but it made him feel weird, like they were performing.

"Anyone else?" Rob asked.

Andre straightened-up in his seat. "Hi, um, I'm Andre and I'm an alcoholic." Andre had been the kid who'd given Ronan the fist-bump after his first meeting. He'd been at a lot of Ronan's meetings, but this was the first time Ronan had ever heard him speak. 

"So, um... I came to my second meeting drunk. Like not really drunk, just sort of buzzed, but yeah, I know that wasn't cool, I guess. I stopped drinking a few weeks before that because I'd fucked up everything. Like everyone was real sick of my bullshit and my dumb-drunk-ass, including me. Went to my first meeting and, yeah, thought it was just a bunch of losers like me and thought _'how the fuck are we going to help each other.'_ And I fucked off and thought that I could do it on my own." He laughed and so did a few others. "Yeah, right, that didn't go so well. All the good people in my life, the people who cared about me, I thought were done with me. Only my so-called-friends were still around. Friends that were happy to let me get drunk and laugh while I threw up on myself or fell asleep in an alley or got arrested.

"Yeah, so, I got drunk with these sad assholes, and I didn't want to go home drunk and let my moms down again. I walked and walked and I just felt lonely and, fuck, I really hate that feeling. I googled and found this meeting. I came in and sat down, I figured I'm a loser, might as well hang out with them. Then this guy walks in. This guy, who I thought had everything. I mean _everything_ anyone could want. The real American-fucking-dream kind of shit. Rich, handsome, famous, cool. Someone's - no a lot of someone's - fucking hero." Andre was looking at Ronan, maybe for reassurance that it was okay. Ronan huffed a laugh and nodded at him. Andre continued, "And there he is sitting right the fuck across from me. In the same loser meeting as me. It made me think that maybe I wasn't a loser. And maybe we're all here because we want to be with people who understand and we don't want to feel lonely." He shrugged. "If that makes any sense. And, yeah, I came back sober the next day and I'm still sober." 

He looked at Ronan and banged his fist over his chest twice, making Ronan extremely uncomfortable. After that no one wanted to share. They all stood and held hands while Rob led them in the serenity prayer. Ronan folded his chair and stacked it against the wall. Andre was waiting for him by the door.

"Hey, I hope I didn't piss you off or anything," he said.

"Nah. That's your story, man. Gotta tell it your way."

"Yeah. Thanks. And really thanks, I wouldn't be sober if it weren't for you."

"Whoa. No that's bullshit. You're the one controlling what you do. Not me."

"Yeah. Right. Cool. So, um I was wondering if you could be my sponsor."

Ronan hadn't expected that, so the first thing he thought shot right out of his mouth. "No fucking way." Andre looked hurt and rejected. "I'd be a real shitty sponsor. Still just scratching the surface of my own bullshit, ya know." He held his fist up. Andre bumped it. "Talk to Rob. He's a decent guy. He'll suggest someone for you."

"Sure. Okay."

Andre still looked rejected. Ronan did a quick calculation in his head. Andre was probably twelve, maybe thirteen when Ronan made his first action flick. What he said about Ronan being a hero, maybe he'd been Andre's hero. Even though Ronan fucking hated that shit, he understood that there's a really fine line between fiction and reality for kids.

"Hey." Ronan put his hand on Andre's arm to stop him when he turned to walk away. Give me your phone. Andre's face broke out into a grin. "This isn't being a sponsor. I fucking meant it, Andre. I'd be crap at it. But, if you ever need to talk - as a _friend_, text me."

"Cool. Yeah. Thanks - thanks, Ronan."

"Warning. I can be a real asshole sometimes. It's not personal."

Andre kept grinning. "I can handle it."

Ronan left without talking to anyone else and slipped into the back of an Escalade. Finn twisted his head around. "Alright there, Ronan?"

"Alright here, Tommy-boy. Let's get back to the set."

Ronan pulled out his phone. The blank message window with Adam's name was still open. Now, that his brain could concentrate on something other than his cravings, he could face this.

_'I'm an asshole.'_

_'It's Ronan btw.'_

Before he started to dodge the landmines in his mind, the bad memories and, worse, predictions of the future, a text came through from Andre.

_'Promise won't be thirsty for ur attention and shit but one question. Do u believe in all that higher power shit???'_

Ronan should've been angry; he'd just told the kid - and when the fuck did he start thinking someone Andre's age as a kid - that he couldn't be his sponsor. But he wasn't. Lloyd on the other hand was going to have a fucking stroke when he found out that Ronan gave his phone number to someone he didn't really know. 

_'Yes. Are you religious?'_

_'Maybe. Family brought me to church every Sunday when I was little but God has other things to worry about than my dumbass. RU?'_

_'I believe in God. I'm Catholic. But that doesn't mean you have to.'_

_'Read ur higher power can be anything u want it to be. It's whatever u believe in that u accept is bigger and more powerful than u. urs is god?????'_

_'No'_

_'WTF u said u believed in god???!!!'_

_'I do. But I'm with you. God has bigger problems than my dumbass.  
Mine is TIME.'_

_'Time??'_

_'Time. You can't control it. You can always depend on it. It's really powerful. It's always there for you, giving you more chances to not do dumbass shit.'_

Finn stopped at a light. Ronan looked out the window. They were almost back at Thomas Circle.

_'Thats deep af but it makes sense. Not going to go steal ur higher power tho. Ill find my own.'_

_'As long as its not another person. Thats unhealthy af.'_

_'Got it.'_

_'Gotta go. You doing ok tonight?'_

_'Yeah. I'm cool. l8r.'_

Ronan didn't know if this was a good idea, but it didn't feel like a bad one either. Sort of like Adam Parrish.

~ ~ ~

Adam sat in the waiting room of his therapist's office staring at the text message from Ronan on his phone. He hadn't responded. What could he say?

_'You were an asshole, but that's a perfectly normal response to my irrational and uncalled for behavior that had nothing to do with you.'_

He'd called for this unscheduled therapist appointment first thing in the morning and was thankful she could fit him in around lunch time. He only had an hour and half before he had to be back to the lab.

"Adam, I'm ready." His therapist stood in the doorway, holding her office door open.

Adam stood up, tucking his phone away into the pocket of his jeans. "Hi, Carrie."

Carrie sat in her usual chair near the window. Adam grabbed a water bottle first from the small fridge she kept in the office. He sat down opposite her and took a drink.

"This is the first time that you've scheduled an appointment outside our normal sessions. Is this something serious? Are you having thoughts of harming yourself?"

"Oh god, no. No! Nothing like that. And now.. damn, now I feel silly for being here because it's nothing that serious."

"I didn't mean to make you feel silly. It's something that I have to ask. It's okay to schedule something with me whenever you want to talk about anything. Understand?"

Adam nodded.

"What do you want to talk about, Adam?"

He really did feel dumb now. This is something that he should be able to work out on his own. Every time he left her office, he felt that the solutions were so simple that he should have worked it out himself. He'd mentioned that to her once and she had told him that was her job, to help him clear away all the other stuff that was clouding up his mind, so he could think straight.

"Remember I told you about the person staying with us throughout the holidays?"

"Yes."

"He's a famous actor. I can't say who, but he's here to film a movie. Last night, we all went to watch him film. And the weather started to get bad. So everyone went into the trailer in between takes. And I stood outside."

"Why?"

"Because it was a trailer and it reminded me of where I grew up."

"What were you feeling?"

"I was feeling panicked and attacked, for no reason."

"But there is a reason. Your past abuse is the reason."

"I guess."

"What was going through your head when you were standing outside the trailer?"

"I wanted to go inside. My friends were in there. The actor, he - he was there and he wanted me to go in. But I... when I thought about actually walking inside, I imagined how small it would be and pictured him - my father in there and..." He wiped his hands over his face. "And I knew it wasn't that trailer. I'm not dumb. I know how it all works."

"How what works?"

"I understand I have a panic disorder. I know what triggers do and the body's response to them. I know that trailer triggered my fight or flight response and that caused the physical feelings of panic. But I thought I could stop it - I thought I had control over it, and then I acted like a jerk to my friend and there's no excuse for that."

"Okay. Let's get back to that later. How are you feeling now?"

"Still anxious. I can't shake it."

"Have you done any of the techniques that worked in the past to help trigger your relaxation response?"

Adam shook his head.

"Why don't you give those a try and if they don't work I can prescribe you -"

"I thought I was better. This hasn't happened to me in _over_ a year. When will this stop happening to me?"

"Maybe never, Adam. You know that. And you are better. You said it. It hasn't happened to you in over a year. You used to feel like this almost all the time."

"I know," he said, sounding like a petulant teenager.

"Has there been anything else that's been putting stress on you before this incident with the trailer?"

"No. My research work is going really well, ahead of schedule actually."

"Anything that's not about your work?"

"No."

"How about this new friend of yours?"

"I don't see him that much. We have opposite schedules."

"But you do see him. And how's the relationship when you see him?"

"He's, um, he's sort of hard to workout."

"In what way?"

"He's rude sometimes, but then he'll also go out of his way to be kind."

"Rude or cruel?"

"Rude. Not cruel."

"What kind things does he do?"

Adam told her about the meatless sauce and the plant and how a new box of Poptarts showed up in the kitchen just when Adam was running low.

"That sounds very thoughtful. Adam, are you attracted to him?"

"Yes."

"Have you acted on your attraction?"

"No."

"And how does that make you feel?"

Adam took a moment to answer. "Confused. And frustrated, I guess."

"Why?"

"Because I'm attracted to him physically, but also, I think, maybe more than that. So, I can't have some sort of friends with benefits thing with him."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. It'd be awkward."

"That must be hard with him living with you and you feeling this way."

"Maybe. I don't know. It's not very smart that I feel this way. I've only known this guy for two weeks."

"There is no formula or schedule for attraction. Do you think he's attracted to you?"

"Yes."

"Have you talked to him about your feelings?"

"What's the point of that? This relationship can't go anywhere. I don't want to lead the sort of life the partner of an actor leads."

"Does thinking about that sort of future trigger a panic response from you?"

"Slightly, yes. Oh. I guess that's been building up then."

"Seems that it has. Adam, do you think maybe you're making a prediction about the future without all of the variables?"

"What other variables do I need? I had this conversation with my best friend. I don't want to move to California. I don't want to go to movie premieres and walk red carpets. I don't want to spend my life hiding from paps. Why should I start something, if it's not the life that I want in the end?"

"Did he ask you to do all of that?"

"Obviously, no he hasn't. We haven't even kissed."

"People make all sorts of relationships work. There are many cases of men and women, who lived in the spotlight, and had relationships outside of that spotlight and hidden for years. I'm not advocating living in the closet, because that's a horrible way to live. I'm not talking denying a relationship, but protecting it."

"I don't know. It just seems like setting myself up for failure. Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like this has more to do with being afraid to fail than with our conflicting lifestyles."

"That's only something you can decide if you're doing or not. My suggestion is that you talk to your friend about whatever is between the two of you and work on your relaxation techniques immediately. If you're still feeling stressed and anxious, give me a call."

"Yeah. Okay."

"Adam, I know this feels like a set back, but it's not. You being here, and not trying to handle this on your own, is a big step for you."

Feeling better and less anxious, Adam left her office and headed towards the nearest Metro station. The snow had stopped, but the cold hadn't let up. Before he got underground and lost cell service, he ducked into a Starbucks and pulled out his phone. As he typed out the text, he replayed what had happened over in his head. With a clear mind, he can see now that Ronan had approached looking troubled. Neither of them had been in a good headspace. 

_'You were an asshole, but that's a perfectly normal response to my irrational and uncalled for behavior that had nothing to do with you. I hope shooting went well.'_

He tucked his phone away, figuring Ronan was sleeping and he wouldn't hear from him until later. He was right. His phone didn't buzz until almost five.

_'Snow fucked it all to hell. Stuck in the trailer with Lloyd.'_

A photo of Lloyd looking right at the camera, very annoyed and a bit surprised. Adam laughed out loud. Mary, one-half of the hyacinth macaw pair that lived in Cabeswater, ruffled her head feathers and glared at him. Adam took a photo and sent it back.

_'Someone's annoyed with me too.'_

_'Is that the girl bird or the boy bird?'_

_'The girl bird - Mary.'_

_'Sargent said she has a crush on you.'_

_'Nah. Her and Percy are mated for life. They're very loyal birds.'_

Adam watched the three dots for awhile. They stopped. Flashed back up. Then stopped again. Finally, a text returned.

_'Let me see you in that hairnet'_

Adam called Mary onto his shoulder. When she settled, he took a selfie of the two of them and sent it.

_'What????!!! NO HAIRNET. Was Sargent fucking with me????'_

_'We relaxed those measures months ago. Blue was only being extra-precautious because we didn't know what was going on.'_

This was how it went for the next week: texts going back and forth, casual photos sent, small talk, anything serious left for another day. Adam didn't mind, it made the long, stressful days leading up to winter break go faster. Their interactions had only been via text, except for early in the morning of the last day of the semester, when Adam was expected to attend a holiday lunch for the Georgetown's Ecology program, Adam was shaving in the bathroom still steamy and humid from his shower, wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist, when the door opened.

"Oh... Parrish." Ronan looked at the door knob like it had betrayed him. 

"Sorry," Adam rushed to say, "I must not have locked it." Ronan was shirtless as well and practically pant-less in only a pair of black boxer briefs. They both stood there for a few beats, staring at each other, eyes flickering cautiously and quickly over the other's naked skin. Adam cursed the timing. He had obligations. Ronan looked exhausted. If this had happened at another time...

Adam broke the connection. Trying to appear cool, he looked back into the mirror as he swished his razor in the water and flicked it off. "If you have to pee, you're not bothering me."

"Cool," Ronan said as he flipped up the toilet lid and seat.

Wordlessly, they both went about their own business, Adam, trying to keep his hands steady, shaving with long, slow strokes, and Ronan peeing. Though, Adam was well-known in many circles for his poise, patience, and self-restraint, he still took a good, long, hard look at Ronan's back and ass as Ronan walked out, yawning, and stretching with his his hands on his shoulder, his elbows out wide. Adam was too far gone, too turned on, filled with too much want to back down now. It wasn't a question of _if_ this was going to happen, but _when_.

~ ~ ~

_'Rob found me a sponsor.'_

"Who's that?" Lloyd looked over Ronan's shoulder at the text from Andre. 

"God dammit, Lloyd. None of your business." Ronan shoved him away.

"Oh, is that Adam?" Blue asked. "Tell him to hurry up home!"

Gansey frowned. "Adam's texting Ronan?"

Noah rolled his eyes. "Keep up, old man."

Finn chimed in, "Tell him I can pick him up, if he needs a ride."

"You better not be sending nudes!" Lloyd scolded. "Last thing you need to do is get hacked now!"

Gansey looked helplessly and confused from person to person. "Who's sending nudes? Ronan or Adam?"

"Both," Noah said.

"No one!" Ronan shouted. "No one is sending nudes. Jesus Christ almighty." Ronan glared at them all sitting around the dining room table at the Brownstone. "It's not even Adam. If you want to tell him something, text him yourself!"

Ronan texted Andre back, ignoring the chatter about whose sent nudes before and who hasn't.

_'Good. Now you can leave me the hell alone.'_

_'Ha never. Who will I complain about my sponsor to?????'_

_'Not me.'_

Ronan grabbed one of the shrimp Lloyd had peeled for himself, dodged Lloyd trying to grab it back, dipped it in cocktail sauce, and popped it in his mouth before he tapped out another text to Andre.

_'Will you be with your family for Christmas?'_

_'Yeah. U?'_

_'Yeah. Stay sober.'_

_'U2.'_

Finn started to tell the story when he got drunk, back in Ireland, fell asleep in a hedge, and woke up with a litter of badger cubs on his chest. Ronan had heard the story a thousand times. He grabbed his phone and took a photo of everyone at the table and texted it to Adam. _'Hurry up. They're animals eating all the food.'_ No text came back, leaving Ronan to worry, but not for long. 

"Hey," Adam greeted as he came in.

Shouts of 'Adam' filled the house. Adam sat down next to Blue. His eyes caught Ronan's and his smile changed, it was smaller and grew softer. Ronan wanted to believe it was a smile just for him. 

Lloyd grabbed the wine bottle. "Get a glass, Adam. You have to try this wine."

Adam shook his head. "No, but thank you."

"We have a white in the fridge too," Lloyd said, "if you prefer that."

"No. Thanks. I don't drink."

Ronan didn't know that. He hadn't seen any signs that Adam was an alcoholic. Maybe he just didn't like it. 

"Oh, sure." Lloyd poured more wine into his own glass. "Well, then there's non-alcoholic eggnog in the fridge and apple cider too."

"I'll take some of those shrimp though," Adam said, grabbing a plate and holding it out. "Filming go well?"

"Yep," Lloyd responded. "We're wrapped until January 3rd."

"We're ahead of schedule too," Ronan added.

"So, we're celebrating," Noah said, raising up his beer bottle. Ronan raised up his bottle of blue Powerade and they tapped them together. 

"No wine for you?" Adam asked, looking at the bottle in Ronan's hand.

"No." Ronan made eye contact with Adam only. "I'm an alcoholic."

"Recovering alcoholic," Lloyd added.

If Adam was surprised or repulsed by it, it didn't show in his face. He pointed to the ravioli at the other end of the table. "Meat?" And that was that. Ronan had revealed one of his secrets and Adam seemed to be all right with it. 

"Of course not," Noah said.

Ronan listed them off. "Four cheese, spinach and ricotta, and butternut squash."

"One of each, please," Adam said.

"Eat them before Noah does," Blue said.

"I'd hide those," Ronan said, pointing at the bowl of pinecones sitting in the center of the table. "Czerny isn't picky."

Noah shrugged. "I bet they'd go good with cranberry sauce."

Ronan nudged Gansey. "Remember when he ate like a bucket of those triple x hot wings on the way to Vegas?"

Covering his mouth, Gansey shook his head. "The smell in that car! So disgusting!"

For the next few hours, they traded stores, laughing and talking. It was the night before Christmas Eve and Ronan felt more free than he had in years. Wrapping up this block of filming, meant that he didn't have to hide around D.C. anymore. His brothers were here, it was his usual place to spend the holidays. He could spend Christmas with his brothers and tonight he had his friends around him. And Adam. Adam was a friend. Adam was something he wanted more of, but, for tonight, he was a friend. He noticed Adam did a lot more listening than he did talking. He wondered what it would take to get Adam to open up. 

"Alright," Lloyd said, standing up. "Time for me to head out. I've got an early morning flight and that airport is going to be like hell on earth!"

"Going to Oklahoma for Christmas?" Adam asked.

"Oh, fuck no, honey. Going back to LA to spend it with my chosen family and to soak up some vitamin D." 

"I'm heading out too," Finn said. "I'll take you home," he said to Lloyd.

Finn shook hands and gave one-armed hugs, wishing everyone a 'Merry Christmas.' Lloyd went around the table, shaking hands, kissing both Blue and Adam on the cheek, and Ronan on top of his head. "Merry Christmas, your highness. I'll miss you."

At the door, Lloyd called out, "See you next year! Love you all!"

"Noah, when's your flight tomorrow?" Gansey asked. 

"Eleven."

"We can take you to the airport," Blue said, "on our way to Henrietta."

"Sure." Noah said. "That'll be great."

"We? You going too, Dick?" Ronan asked.

"No," replied Gansey. "It's the traditional Gansey emotionally-stunted family Christmas for me."

"She means me," Adam said. "I'm going home with Blue for Christmas."

Blue added, "I'm staying until after New Year's. So, Adam'll drive my car back here."

"And I'm going to Blue's for New Year's Eve," Gansey said, he looked a look nervous when he said it, "and we'll come back to D.C. together."

"You have it all worked out then," Ronan said.

"What about you, Ronan?" Blue asked.

"My brothers and I are going to spend Christmas at the Barns."

"The Barns?" Blue asked at the same time Gansey said, "You are?"

"It's where Ronan grew up in Singer's Falls," Gansey told Blue. 

"It's not a big deal, Dick. We're going to mass at St. Agnes on Christmas Eve and having breakfast on Christmas with Finn and his wife."

Gansey took the hint not to make a big deal about it. "Great. Looks like mostly everyone's plans are set then." He gave Adam a pointed look. If Adam saw it, he ignored it. Ronan wondered what it was about. 

Adam stood and asked if anyone wanted a drink - no one did - and went into the kitchen. Ronan stood up and followed, and, if anyone noticed that, no one said anything. 

"Hey," Ronan said, sliding onto one of the seats.

"Hey." Adam poured a glass of eggnog into a glass mug. "Want some?"

"Sure."

He poured Ronan a glass. 

"So, um, you'll be in Henrietta for Christmas then."

"Yeah. Blue's family loves Christmas Eve, it's a huge deal. Christmas Day is a bit quieter, we only have a late lunch. Mostly, because everyone is hungover."

"Except you."

"Except me."

"When are you driving back here?"

"Christmas night."

"Oh, would you like to maybe come by the Barns Christmas night. My brothers... they'll be gone and I'll just be there by myself. But, if you had other plans..."

Adam leaned down, resting his elbows on the island. This close to Adam, he could see a little bit of eggnog on his lips. "Are you inviting Blue _and_ me or _only_ me?"

"Well... if you want Blue to come with you, then, sure... I guess."

One of Ronan's hands was wrapped around the mug. Their fingers were so close that he could feel Adam's energy. "Do you want only _me_?" Adam asked, smoothing his finger over Ronan's knuckles. Ronan drew in a sharp breath. 

"Only you," Ronan whispered.

Adam smiled. "Good."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be the last of Act I! I know this is taking long, but I just love writing in this universe.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When they finally talk, they really talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, all you lovely people who've left comments and kudos! This is the end of Act I!

**A Love Story in Three Acts**

Act. I

_They Meet_

Adam's Christmas had started out unusual.

First, Persephone insisted that Adam couldn't participate in any of the readings or scrying that they normally all did on Christmas morning. She wouldn't tell him exactly why, only spoke in her airy voice, "Not everything can be seen, Adam. Some things have to be felt." When he asked Maura about it, she shrugged and said, "Blue's mine to care and worry about. Your Persephone's. If she says not to do it, then don't do it." 

Then the day only got weirder. Ronan had texted him directions and when he got there, sometime just after six, it was a gas station. He parked and was pulling out his phone to text Ronan when Ronan knocked on his window, scaring the hell out of him.

"What the hell?" 

"Get in the passenger seat, Parrish. I'm driving."

"Driving where? Why?"

"The Barns. Where else would we be going?" Ronan waved at him to hurry up. "Come on. It's cold as fuck out here."

Adam got out and walked around to the passenger side. By the time he got back into the car, Ronan was already adjusting the seat. "Christ, a Prius," he muttered. He scowled at Adam.

"I'm really confused right now," Adam said.

"There's tight security around the Barns. Easier for me to navigate us there."

"How'd you get to the gas station?"

"Finn. Who else? Keep up, Parrish."

Now, he was sitting in the passenger seat of Blue's Prius, driving through the thickest parts of the forest, completely at Ronan's mercy. They'd turned off onto a small dirt road about ten minutes back and weaved and turned, some turns so sharp that Adam had to hold onto the roof. Some so hidden that Adam thought they were going to hit a tree right before Ronan jerked the wheel to the side.

They came to a fork in the road and, with a known expert's ease, Ronan took the righthand road.

"Yeah, so, I'm glad you drove," Adam said. "This is quite the path."

Ronan grunted. "Security. Keeps the paps and gawkers away."

"You went to a lot of trouble," Adam said. What he was really thinking was _'Why? Why do you want this terrible reminder of what happened? Why not burn it all to the ground?'_ Because given the chance, Adam would burn his parents' trailer to the ground and salt the earth so nothing ever grew there again.

"It's my home," Ronan said matter-of-factly. Adam looked at his profile. Ronan had been acting entirely too casual, like this was something they'd done a hundred times, like they weren't doing anything special, like they hadn't planned this to have sex. Adam had started to work Ronan out. The more he looked like he didn't care was an indicator that he really did care. 

Eventually, the stark contrasting winter forest mix of naked branches and vines and the green that survived all seasons disappeared and opened up to a great sloping expanse. The were no clouds tonight and the moon and stars were crisp and clear. It was the perfect night. In the moonlight, Adam could see a few barns and other buildings scattered around the land and, up ahead a large farmhouse, lit up inside with a porch light on and smoke flowing from the chimney

This wasn't at all what Adam expected. The farmhouse itself looked quaint, old, and unimpressive. It certainly wasn't what he'd expected the home of a Hollywood royal couple to look like. 

"My dad bought it for my mom as a wedding present," Ronan said as if he'd read Adam's mind. "She grew up in a quiet village in County Kerry and hated cities and she loathed L.A.."

They parked in a gravel driveway next to the Escalade Finn always drove, next to that was Ronan's BMW. "Does Finn live here?"

"Him and his wife Mary live on the property." 

They stepped out of the car. Still holding the door open, Adam stood still, something felt right inside of him in that moment. He breathed in the mix of the crisp cold air, the smell of fresh earth, and a burning fireplace. Ronan was on the porch already. Adam closed the door and followed. The smells changed inside. There was an overwhelming smell of something cooking and something like baking bread. Under that was the smell of the fireplace and a faint smell of fresh paint.

They shrugged off their coats and took off their shoes. Adam followed Ronan down the hall, peering into rooms as they passed. They were all dark, except the sitting room where the fire was burning in a large fireplace. The ceiling had exposed beams and mismatched furniture that was expensive and worn from use. In the corner of the room stood a large real Christmas tree, decorated with ornaments on most every branch, with colored Christmas lights, and a train underneath. 

"Hello, lads!" Finn greeted as they walked into the sort of kitchen you'd expect to find in a farmhouse, shabby and battered, but certainly not the kind of kitchen Adam expected the rich and famous to have.

Ronan was scowling at Finn. "Thought you were going home?"

"Mary and I were cleaning up and then she insisted on heating up some soup."

Mary, who had been at the stove, turned around, smiling. She was a tiny, thin women with a long face, upturned nose, pale blue eyes, and dirty blond hair. 

"Hello, Adam!" Like Finn, she had an Irish accent. She came forward and held her hands out. Adam gave her his, she patted them kindly. "It's a pleasure to meet you. My Tommy said you're a real handsome lad. Now, we're not staying. There's some vegetable soup on the stove. And I made wee bit of bread this morning and that's in the warmer. Fresh butter on the table."

Finn put on his coat and, when he was done, he helped Mary on with hers. "Call me if you need me," he said to Ronan. "Night, Adam."

They left by the kitchen door, Mary calling out, "Night, boys!"

This all felt surreal. Did Finn and his wife know that Adam had come here to have sex? What had Ronan told them? 

"Are you hungry, Parrish?"

"Actually, yeah. I haven't eaten since lunch."

Ronan scooped the soup into bowls and took out the warm bread. They made attempts at small talk, but it felt stilted and awkward. Adam had a second bowl and four pieces of bread. 

"I think this is the best bread that I've ever had," he said.

Ronan nodded. "Mary's a great cook. She makes great pies too. You know, like the Irish kind of pies, meat and vegetables and stuff. I bet she'd make one for you without meat."

When she would ever do this for Adam hung in the air. Adam had already wondered if Ronan had told her to make the vegetable soup for him. 

When they were done, Ronan put the dirty dishes in the sink, and said, "I want to show you something."

Adam couldn't read him right now. Even Ronan seemed unsure of where this was going. He led Adam up the stairs, passing old family photos on the wall that Adam wanted to inspect later. If this whole night leading up to this was Ronan Lynch's idea of how to seduce someone it was weird and a little bit creepy.

Upstairs, Ronan opened a door and stepped in. Adam paused for a moment, his brain quickly trying to assess the situation and predict where it was going by creating and testing different scenarios quickly in his mind. The most plausible one was that Ronan simply had no seduction skills whatsoever and was going to show him his bedroom and then make some cheesy immature comment about wanting to show him his dick or something equally as awful.

There was no way that Adam could have been prepared for why Ronan had really brought him up here. 

Adam stepped into the room as Ronan turned on the light. Adam gasped. It was Ronan's bedroom; he'd been right about that. There was a double bed, a nightstand, a dresser and a bookshelf. They were all ordinary things but they were completely surrounded by something extraordinary. 

Adam stepped into the middle of the room and turned around. All four walls, from floor to ceiling, were covered in a painting of a forest. Ronan closed the door. The back of the door was as well. 

Adam had taken art history and art appreciation courses and, like all his schoolwork, he'd thrown himself into it, trying to learn everything. Even if he hadn't, anyone could see that whomever had painted this had exceptional talent. The technique of the brushstrokes weren't like anything he'd ever seen before. He moved closer, touching the pink bloom of a mimosa tree. 

In the front corner near the door, Adam saw a signature scrawled in black paint. He moved closer for a better look. 

_RNL_

He looked at the date and then at Ronan, who'd sat down on his bed. "Ronan, Jesus, you were what twelve?"

"Eleven," Ronan said. He shrugged casually. "My birthday is late in the year."

"Holy..." Adam had noticed the night sky painted into the ceiling and his mouth hung open. 

"This is what I wanted to show you." Ronan pointed to another scrawling on the ceiling near the moon. 

_'Cabeswater_

Adam squinted at it. "Why? Did you just do that?"

"No. I did that when I was eleven."

Adam walked backward until the bed hit the back of his knees. He sat down. "What... how?"

"I guess you scry. I dream."

"Dream?" Adam knew he sounded stupid, but his brain wasn't entirely sure how to process this information.

"I used to dream about a forest named Cabeswater. This is what some of it looked like."

"Did you name it that?"

"No... maybe. I really don't know. I think it told me its name, but sometimes it was hard to tell what the dream was showing me or what I was creating myself."

"And then you painted the dream?"

"Yeah. There were things living in there too - people, animals... creatures. Sometimes, they'd tell me stories or I'd tell them stories. I'd wake up in the morning and paint or write all day. One of the barns is filled with them."

Adam had so many questions that he didn't know where to begin. "Any ideas how we both had experiences in alternative worlds that both revolve around Cabeswater?"

"Fuck if I know."

"Do you still dream like this?"

Ronan rubbed his hands on his thighs. "The good dreams stopped when I was drinking."

"And now that you're not?"

"When I'm here, at the Barns, I dream of this Cabeswater again."

Adam tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. "Hold on. You made fun of me for my hocus-pocus and here you're some kind of mystical dreamer."

"I didn't make fun of you for that! I was surprised that you weren't all nerdy and scientific and ... oh..." He noticed the playful look on Adam's face. "You're teasing."

Adam shifted sideways, so that their knees were touching. "I'm teasing."

Ronan leaned in and kissed him. The kiss wasn't what Adam had expected. He'd imagined something desperate, hungry, wanting. There was a longing in the kiss, but it was soft, exploring, and very curious. 

This kiss was a question. 

Ronan pulled away, only slightly, but Adam moved forward and pressed their lips together again. His kiss had a point, a goal, a purpose. He thought he was answering Ronan's question. He moved his lips to Ronan's jaw and held Ronan's shoulders, pushing him backwards, wanting him flat on his back on the bed, and the next thing Adam knew Ronan was off the bed and standing above him.

"I need to clean up those dishes," Ronan said and ran out the door. Adam heard his footsteps thundering on the stairs. 

After a few minutes, which Adam spent most of the time thinking, _'What the fuck just happened?'_, he went downstairs to get some answers. Ronan sat at the kitchen table with his head in his hands. Adam sat down across from him. "I'm confused here, Ronan. I thought you were attracted to me. I thought that's why you asked me here."

"Use your words," Ronan mumbled into his hands.

Adam laughed softly. "Hey, me too."

Ronan looked up. "What?"

"Therapy. Isn't that what your therapist tells you? It's what mine tells me."

Ronan laughed. "Yeah. He does." He took a loud deep breath and exhaled it, blowing up his cheeks. "I'm attracted to you, Parrish. I mean, fuck, after I walked in on you in the bathroom in a fucking towel the other day, I jerked-off in my bedroom."

"Okay, then what's the problem?"

"It's not a problem." Ronan looked up at the ceiling, clearly struggling with talking about this. "I went to Hollywood when I was seventeen. I was sheltered as shit before that . Home-schooled here until I went to Aglionby and, there, I hung around with only Gansey and Noah."

"You went to Hollywood a virgin." 

"Yep. A stupid, angry, drunk virgin, wallowing in misery and looking for ways to hurt himself. I don't even remember my first time." He paused. Adam had nothing to say to fill the space. "Or my second. I got to be a better drunk and started remembering. They were usually not worth remembering."

Adam started to wonder if Ronan was going to tell him he had an STD or HIV. 

Ronan continued, "Then I met Kravinsky. How much do you know about that?"

"Some. That it looked to be a toxic relationship and the sex video."

"It looked that way 'cos it was. We were never really a couple - not in the normal way. We did drugs, drank, and fought. Sometimes we fucked each other and sometimes other people. And that fucking video. Scum-fucking-bastard released it when I stopped drinking and ended it with him for good. He did it to piss me off." He stopped again and glared at Adam. "Don't you have any fucking questions about any of this?"

"I do. May I ask them?"

Ronan waved his hand around.

"Are you sick - HIV or anything?"

"Oh, Jesus, no. I've been tested."

"You said you're an alcoholic. Are you a drug addict as well?"

"Nope. Alcohol's my poison. I can walk away from drugs - don't do them anymore though."

"Are you a sex addict?"

"No, but my therapist's official diagnosis is that I've used sex in the past to abuse myself."

"Do you have any physical issues then that prevent you from having sex?"

"Goddammit." He put his head in his hands. If he'd had hair, he'd probably be pulling at it right now. "No. I don't. Listen, Parrish, here it is. I've had a lot of sex. Like a fucking lot. Emotionless sex with people that I didn't give a fuck about and that certainly didn't give a fuck about me either. And I don't want that fucked up shit anymore. I want to be with someone who... someone who cares about me - really cares about me. I haven't had sex in over two years, since I've been sober. I know it sounds pathetic - ."

"It doesn't sound pathetic at all." Adam ran his fingers through his hair. "But um... We've just met and..."

"I'm not asking for all that tonight! Jesus. I'm not asking you to marry me. Can't we just hang out, spend time together, see where it goes?"

"You want to date?"

"Yeah."

"I... there's lots of other factors and I..."

"I get it." Ronan pushed his chair back and crossed his arms over his chest. "You're not interested in anything else. No worries, Parrish. Glad we had this talk."

"No. That's not what I... I don't... It's hard for me to make sudden emotional turns." Ronan let his arms fall. He put his hands in his pocket and listened. "I expected one thing. Yeah, I thought we were just going to have sex tonight, maybe do a FWB thing, and that was it. I need time to process this."

"So, I'm good enough to fuck, but not good enough to date."

"Don't put words in my mouth. That's not what I'm saying."

"I get it. I'm an alcoholic and a high school dropout." Ronan's voice was low and vulnerable, rough with hurt. "What would you want with someone like -?"

"Ronan, stop!" Adam felt the panic rising up from the pain in his stomach. "I'm telling you that's not it. I need to process this." He stood up. "I should leave."

Ronan stood up and followed him down the hall. "Is this what you do?"

Adam spun around at the front door. "Is what what I do?"

"Storm off when things get hard."

"What that's not what I..." Adam snapped his mouth shut. Ronan was calling him on his bullshit. That was exactly what he did. 

"Sleep here. It's late. Get up in the morning and leave whenever you want. I won't force you to talk about anything."

"Where will I sleep?"

"My brother Declan's room. I already made the bed for you." Ronan backed away. "It's the door on the left at the top of the stairs." He turned his back to Adam and walked away. "I won't bother you again." He disappeared into the sitting room.

Adam got his bag from the car and went upstairs alone, finding Declan's room easily. Unlike the overpowering creativity of Ronan's room, Declan's looked more like Adam's, sparse and neat. Adam used the hallway bathroom to get ready for bed. The only thing he had to wear to bed was` the Christmas pajamas that Maura brought for him and Blue wear Christmas Eve. Each year there was a theme. This year was reindeer. The pajama bottoms were green with tiny Rudolphs and the shirt was white with a huge red nose on it. He'd considered sleeping in his boxers only but it was drafty in the old house.

Probably, because of the years Adam had spent exhausted beyond what any human normally could endure, he had no problem falling asleep, even on his most anxious and nervous days. Tonight was no different. It only took him minutes to fall asleep. Staying asleep was the problem. He woke up what felt like every hour or so throughout the night. When he did sleep, there were strange and vivid dreams that he woke up unable to shake off. They were distortions of past events with scenes flashing from one to another. He dreamed about his college graduation, but Gansey, who he hadn't even met yet, was there, asking him for his rent, something that would never happen in reality. One dream relived his first fight with a boy at Georgetown Prep. It had been a stupid locker room fight, each boy only got a few shoves in before the coach walked in, but in the dream the boy looked like Ronan, but Adam knew it was Declan Lynch.

Finally, Adam fell into a deep sleep, when he woke-up, the darkness in his room had started to fade and made the room look gray. That's when last night hit him in full force. He rolled over on his back and dissected it. Wanting to be with Ronan wasn't an issue. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't think twice to saying 'yes' to a date. These weren't normal circumstances. Ronan had laid it out there - the finish line for him was a commitment. Adam try to consider that sort of life, but his mind obsessively worried about journalist, digging into his past, finding out how he'd lived, the things he'd done to get out and about his photo being shared all over the world, losing control of his image, having people looking at him, judging him for how he looked, and whether he deserved to have someone like Ronan attracted to him. 

His stomach burned. He sat up in bed and went through his breathing exercises. Being mindful of how long he inhaled, how long he exhaled, holding his breath for a few seconds in between each. He stood when he had to go to the bathroom and couldn't hold it any longer. He noticed that Ronan's bedroom door was wide open. On the way back from the bathroom, he peeked inside. The sun was now up, lighting up the room with an early morning warm glow. Ronan wasn't in there. The bed didn't look slept in. 

He stepped inside, wanting to look at Cabeswater in the morning light. 

He walked along the walls, inspecting the trees. They were all different species, some of them would never be able to live together in the same environment in the real world. Adam had seen some of these trees up close, had touched them, studied them and these replicas looked perfect. Adam couldn't believe Ronan had done this when he was only eleven. He couldn't imagine the possibilities of what Ronan could do now.

A sunbeam came through the window lighting up a lake painted near Ronan's bed. Adam moved closer. Maybe it was the way the sun hit it but the water looked like it was moving. He had to kneel down to see it better. Adam could tell by the ripples in the water that the wind blew from the west. Below the surface of the water he could see a fish, no two, no three... one of the fish breached the surface. A bird cried out above Adam. He looked up at a broad-winged hawk, wings spread, soaring over the sun.  
The wind breezed through his hair. He stood up in the forest, grass under his bare feet, but like the dream, where he knew it was Declan even when it looked like Ronan, he knew he was still in the farmhouse in the Barns, even as the forest breathed and lived around him. 

Something else was there, something profound, strong. It surrounded him, pushing and pulling at him. Tentatively, he reached his mind out towards it. _'It's...'_ It was love. Love filled this place. It pushed and pulled at him harder. There was so much of it, it felt alive and desperate, pushing at him to set it free. 

Adam didn't know whose love it was. Was it the love that had filled the Barns, from the family here, built up over years, was it the love of a home that he felt or was it -

"Adam!"

Adam fell over and hit his head on the floor. 

"Jesus Christ, Adam, fucking answer me."

"I'm okay," Adam whispered.

"What the absolute fuck were you doing?" Adam sat up. Ronan was sitting on his haunches, staring wide-eyed at him. "I called you. I shook you. You were just staring and - what the fuck is wrong with your eyes?"

"Give me a second." Adam was struggling to bring himself back completely. The feelings he had felt weighed heavy inside of him. "I was scrying. I didn't mean to." He rubbed his eyes hard with the knuckles of his index fingers until they watered. "That's never happened before. I was looking at the water... I thought it was moving and then..." 

He remembered the love he'd felt, caged up, lonely, starving for attention and nurturing. He pulled his knees up to his chest, put his head on them, and wrapped his arms around his legs. His senses were still too sharp, too alert. It was like being in a bubble, with every sound and feeling vibrating against him: Ronan's breath, quiet and fast, the warmth of the sun on his hair, the bird on the branch right outside the window pecking at something, a strong smell of coffee.

Slowly, he came back to himself. He looked at Ronan, who had moved so that his back rested against the bed. He still wore his clothes from the night before. 

"I'm sorry I scared you," Adam said.

"Are you okay now?"

"Yeah." Adam laughed. "Well, no more fucked up than I was before it happened."

Adam looked around the room at this magnificent painted world, a portal to something else that was filled with pure love. It was magnificent. And terrifying. He looked at Ronan, the man who'd made this, maybe even created it all, who tried to look casual, but still had a worried brow and worried eyes. If he could ever love someone, could it be Ronan Lynch?

'_Maybe. Maybe it could.'_

"I want to talk," Adam said. "You've told me how you felt and a lot about you but... I really haven't told you anything about me. If you want to."

"I do."

"I need coffee first."

Ronan stood and held his hand out to help Adam up. Adam felt Ronan's leather brackets slide against his wrist as he pulled him up. Ronan gave him a small smile. "You're fucking creepy, Parrish. Do you know that?"

"You say that like you like it."

"Maybe, I do."

Downstairs, Ronan pointed at the sitting room. "Let's talk in there. It's warmer. I'll get the coffee."

There were two chairs near the fire. A multi-colored crocheted afghan was half on the seat and half off. On the table next to it was a mug of coffee and Ronan's phone. He wondered if Ronan had slept there. The chair across from it looked just as welcoming and comfortable. He settled into it, pulling a similar looking afghan across his shoulders. 

Ronan came in with his coffee, handing it to Adam, still looking concerned. Adam gave him a reassuring smile. They sat there, drinking coffee. Adam looked at the fire, careful not to get lost. He'd never had something like that happen before. He noticed Ronan's careful glances and he appreciated his patience.

"Ronan, tell me to use my words," Adam said.

~ ~ ~

"Use your words, Adam."

"I'm a child abuse survivor." 

Ronan didn't move. He hadn't been expecting that. "Sexual abuse?"

Adam shook his head. "Physical. Emotional. My father hated me, used me as a punching bag. My mother... he wasn't kind to her either. She shut herself off from me. Helped him gaslight me." He took a few gulps of coffee. "We were poor, dirt poor. Living in a trailer park poor."

"Fuck... the other night. That's why you didn't want to -"

"Yeah. It was an unexpected reaction. That trailer I grew up in wasn't a home; it was a prison. All I could think of was getting out.

"I applied to Aglionby that was my goal. But my middle school counselor talked me into applying to Georgetown prep too. I got accepted to both. I wanted Aglionby, but they only offered me a partial scholarship. Prep offered me a full ride, room, board, books and even a meal expense. Everything. I had to take it."

"And your scumbag parents were cool with that?"

"What do you think? When my father found out I'd simply _applied_ to Aglionby he broke my nose."

Ronan had practiced restraint up until now. He let out a slew of curses and damnations to both of Adam's parents and everyone who'd let it go on, yet still resisted the urge to throw his mug against the wall. Adam never flinched. He just listened. 

Adam went on, "I needed to get out of that trailer, away from them, that was another reason D.C. was more attractive. I knew they wouldn't let me go. I forged his signature on all the papers, including the scholarship applications. I knew he'd come to D.C., walk there if he had to, to drag me back to that trailer. If he couldn't get out, neither would I.

"So, I had to make him afraid to look for me. I saved money all summer, worked where ever someone would hire a kid too young to work legally. I packed what little I wasn't too embarrassed to bring with me and hid it in the forest. A few days before I was due at school, I picked a fight. Got the worst beating of my life."

"Fuck..." Ronan said again. He didn't know what else to say. He started to worry a bit. Adam told this like he was telling someone else's story with a steady clinic voice. But Adam was opening up and that was as start. 

"I staged my bed, let the blood from my nose and cuts seep through the blankets, the pillow, the mattress. Let blood drip around the trailer, in the bathroom sink. I even snuck out and got some in the bed of his pick-up truck. After they fell asleep, I snuck out. I got my things, and I rode a bus to D.C.. Told everyone at school that I'd been in a car accident to explain my wrecked face and hoped my plan had worked - that my parents would be too afraid to call the cops to come look for me."

"Right," Ronan said, standing up. He started paced, trying to release the emotions building up. "Because what would they tell the cops - that they beat you and you ran away? Or that the cops would think maybe they'd killed you and find all the blood in the trailer?"

"And maybe even if they did and the cops found all of that blood, I'd have a case to get emancipated. But they didn't call the cops. I don't know what they thought. I never saw them again."

"Fuck - fuck. You're a real badass, Parrish. Fuck."

"I did what I had to do," Adam said, resigned and sure.

"Where did you stay during summer break?"

"Summer camps. I got jobs at math and science summer camps. Forged my parents' signature on more papers. Between them I stayed at hostels." 

Ronan was still pacing, rubbing his hand over his head. "You were goddamn homeless!"

Adam must've interpreted Ronan's anger as being towards him. He looked even more cold and resigned and repeated, "I did what I had to do."

"Yeah, fuck you did! You shouldn't have had to though. Your parents should be in jail!" 

"I didn't tell you all of this for you to feel bad for me."

Ronan sat back down and stared at Adam intently. "Are you fucking kidding me? I don't feel bad for you. Lots of people were handed a load of horrible shit. I saw my father's brains splattered all over our driveway. Life can fucking suck, man."

Ronan's feelings for Adam were threatening to overflow out of his mouth. He wanted to tell Adam how he was the bravest fucking person that he knew, that he was smart and clever, and he wanted to hold him and show him the kindness and affection that he deserved. But Adam was in control of this conversation. Ronan had said what he had to say last night. Today was Adam's turn. The ball, as they say, was in Adam's court.

"Why did you tell me all of that?" Ronan asked.

"There's a few issues here," Adam said, "that have to do with what you're asking. Your life - the way people dig into it. Journalists and gossip columnist and bloggers. I don't want the way that I lived out there."

"Being poor is nothing to be ashamed of and neither is what you did to get out. 

"I'm not ashamed. I simply don't want how I lived used for some sick form of entertainment. It's my story to tell to whom I want to tell it to."

Ronan sat down. "Okay. Not a problem. I'll quit. Say good-bye to Hollywood."

"What? You can't do that!"

"Sure I can. It's easy peasy."

"What the hell, Ronan. That's crazy! You've only known me a few weeks and why are you grinning at me?"

"I'm fucking with you, Parrish."

Adam rolled his eyes. "Asshole. I can't believe I thought you'd give it up."

"Oh, no, I'm giving it all up. I'm just not doing it because of you."

"What? Really?"

"Yeah. That's what _'We All Die'_ is. My swan song. I'm done with acting. Done with fucking Hollywood and all the bullshit."

"What are you going to do?"

"Move back home. Fix this place up. Paint. Write. Spend time with my family. My friends. Grow my hair. Get lazy."

"You're just going to stay here hiding at the Barns?"

"Nah. I'd go out of my fucking mind. The next big thing'll come along and the press will forget about me. Then I'll try to lead a semi-normal life." _'Maybe with you.'_

"You've got it all worked out then?"

"Close enough." A silence fell between them. Adam looked back at the fire. Ronan held up his mug, More coffee?"

"Sure." Adam handed his mug.

The Barns was seriously lacking in modern appliances. Aurora Lynch had been old-fashioned. It didn't even have a microwave. Ronan was a lot like his mother when it came to home life, but he had limits. He'd already ordered a microwave, espresso machine, toaster oven, and a coffeemaker. The only coffeemaker he had now was a stovetop percolator. He was scooping the coffee grounds into it when Adam came into the kitchen. He stopped a few feet away from Ronan.

Simply looking at Adam in his silly Christmas pjs, hair still a mess, cheeks red from sitting so close to the fire, made Ronan's heart hurt. He had tried so hard not to want him, but now that he hung on the cusp of possibly having him, he could no longer deny how much he wanted a chance to try to grow something special between them.

He pointed at the nose on Adam's shirt. "Nice jammies by the way."

Adam glanced down at them, looking surprised he had them on. He looked back up, the impassive look he had before was gone. He looked lost. "I don't know if I can ever love someone. I mean really love them in an intimate way."

"And I don't know if I'll go back on my bullshit and start drinking again. I just know that I don't want to, and I'm going to fight like hell for my sobriety. That has to be enough for right now."

"Yeah. It has to be," Adam said. He grabbed him by the shirt and pulled Ronan into him. Ronan reacted, gripping the sides of Adam's waist. Adam smelled like Cabeswater. Ronan put his face in his neck and breathed in the scent.

Adam wrapped his fingers around the back of Ronan's neck. He whispered, "Ronan..." 

Ronan pulled back and Adam kissed him. This kiss was the answer that Ronan had been waiting for. Ronan knew that Adam didn't do anything he wasn't going to give a hundred percent to and this kiss was a hundred percent all in. It wasn't a commitment. It was a promise that this kiss was enough for right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end of Act I! Next is Act II: They Fall in Love!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful was a word that Adam had assigned to things a lot in the past few days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one got long! Thank you so, so, so much for the lovely comments. They mean so much to me and help push me through my periods of self-doubt.

A Love Story in Three Acts

Act. II

_They Fall in Love_

Blue sat in the kitchen at the Barns looking at Ronan, who was looking at Adam, who was looking at Persephone, who was looking at the tiny black kitten sleeping on Ronan's shoulder.

"She's quite small," Persephone said. "Are you bottle feeding her?"

Ronan reached up and pet her head with only his index finger. "Vet said she can eat canned wet food."

"With a milk supplement," Adam added. "Ronan thinks a hawk snatched her from her mother and then dropped her." The men looked at each other for a brief moment. "We were really lucky to have stumbled across her."

"And you named her Chainsaw, seriously?" Blue asked.

"What's wrong with that?" Ronan asked, scowling.

"If you'd seen her when she first saw us, you'd understand" Adam said. "She puffed out her fur and arched her back and the growl she made sounded like a little chainsaw."

Ronan pointed at Adam's phone on the table. "You got a pic, didn't you?" 

"Oh, let me see," Blue said. She had to admit that Chainsaw was very cute.

"Ronan and Adam," Persephone began, "didn't ask us here to show us their cat, Blue."

Blue shot her a dirty look. She opened her mouth to point out that Persephone had brought up the cat first, but Persephone cut her off. "You boys want to ask me something."

"Yes," Adam said. "You're aware of the Cabeswater that I've seen when I scry."

"Mmmm."

Adam described to them Ronan's dream world. He told them of a barn full of magnificent paintings of various animals and creatures that lived in this world and a painting on Ronan's bedroom walls of an impossible forest that he'd painted when he was only eleven. "And he called it Cabeswater." 

"Mmmm."

Ronan raised an eyebrow. "Well?"

"Well what?" she asked.

"Are you going to answer our question?" 

She tilted her head. "No one asked me a question."

Ronan threw his hands up. "Are you fu-"

Adam cut him off, "What we want to know, Persephone, is what's the connection?"

She shrugged. "You have an open psychic channel," she nodded towards Adam, "and you have an open psychic channel," she nodded towards Ronan, "and living in an area that is overrun with ley lines. That's the connection."

Blue interjected. "But don't you think it's interesting that we all didn't know each other growing up, but we all gravitated towards one another now?"

"No. I don't find it interesting at all. Interesting implies that it's extraordinary. It's quite common that people who share interests or traits tend to befriend each other."

"Come on," Ronan said a little too forcefully. Chainsaw startled and slid down his chest. He picked her up. "Do you want to hold her?" he asked Blue. Blue reached her hand across the table and took her, pulling her into her chest. Ronan addressed Persephone again. "Not everyone can do the things that we do. It's sort of like finding a needle in a hay stack."

"Is it?" 

"Well, yeah, I mean..."

She pointed at the ball of fur that Blue was making cooing noises at. "Adam said you were lucky to find her. What did that mean? That you just so happened to find the spot that a hawk dropped her. What if there were other hawks and other kittens you didn't find?"

"Oh, so you mean out there, in the fields, might be dozens of dea..." He looked at Chainsaw and his voice trailed off as if what he'd been about to say might upset her. "There might've been other kittens that weren't so lucky." 

She nodded. "Yes, Ronan. Exactly. So, you see my point?" she directed the question towards Adam.

Adam nodded. "That it wasn't fate that we all met."

"I didn't say that." Ronan threw his hands up in the air again. She ignored him, looking behind him at the stove. "I believe I was promised lunch and that stew smells delightful."

Adam took Chainsaw from Blue. "I'll put her in her room so she doesn't bother us while we eat." She watched him walk away, holding Chainsaw gently and whispering in her ear, still not believing what she had walked into. It'd only been a day and a half since Adam had left Fox Way and he appeared to now be co-parenting a cat with the guy he'd only wanted a casual fling with.

The stew was good and the room mostly quiet. Persephone hummed while she ate. Blue tried to make small talk about the predicted icy rain storm, but when Adam said, "I plan on leaving after lunch to try to beat it home," Ronan's expression had soured and the energy in the room had shifted towards awkward. 

What Blue was really dying to do was get a better look at the house and that painting in Ronan's room. Ronan must've seen her craning her neck into the hallway because he said, "Go look around, Sargent, if you want. I've got nothing to hide."

She jumped at the chance and began to wander around the first floor, peering into rooms. The dining room and a room that looked like a study had furniture covered in sheets and it smelled and looked like the rooms had been recently painted. The sitting room had obviously been used a lot recently. Upstairs, she opened a door to a tidy looking room, the bed made perfectly, and saw Adam's overnight bag on the bed. She closed the door and noticed that the door to one of the rooms was halfway open. 

She opened the door wider. 

"Oh..." 

She stepped inside. It was impossible to take in all at once. She stood at different angles in the room, giving her various points of view. The subtle shifts of light and changes in colors made it appear so real. It radiated with details and accuracy without being completely void of artistic creativity. Ronan had used different brushstroke styles that complimented each other perfectly. 

Most of the trees she was sure existed in nature but some she wasn't so sure about. Maybe they were created in Ronan's dream, or maybe they'd existed once and didn't anymore, or maybe they just hadn't been discovered yet. There were a lot of possibilities in this painting. 

"Was I right?" Adam stood in the door. His hands in his jeans pockets, thumbs sticking out.

"This is... how'd he do this? Did he really dream this? This is the Rainbow Eucalyptus tree. He got the flowers and the varying colors of the bark perfect. I know he could look at a photograph but it never really captures some of the details that he's captured here."

Adam stepped further into the room. "He was eleven when he did this."

Blue sat down on the floor cross-legged. He sat down, mirroring her. "What's going on, Adam? You've been here almost two days? Did you not - did things not go as planned? Did they go better than planned?"

"They didn't go as planned. But it's okay. We're taking things slow."

"_Things?_" She leaned in closer and whispered. "Like sex?"

Adam nodded.

"What? You're seriously dating now?"

He nodded again. She had more questions about Ronan and him but she knew her best friend well. The straight neck and back, hands resting still on his thighs, lips tight. Adam wasn't sharing anymore on the subject right now. So, she changed it.

"What did you see when you scried?"

Before he answered, Adam looked around the room, his expression opening up as he did, changing from shut down to adoring. "This - this forest - Cabeswater but living." He rubbed at his left ear. His tell that he was dealing with emotions that he wasn't sure how to process. "It wasn't what I saw, Blue, it's what I felt. And it's... well, I feel it now too. Maybe because you're here amplifying it."

"What did you feel?"

"It's hard to explain. It felt like the forest is here, actually here, not just in the painting. Usually, when I scry, I feel like I've gone somewhere. Like I'm not here anymore. But this felt like it came to me or it was already here. And it felt like... I don't know. It's hard to describe."

"Was it a bad feeling?"

"No. Not at all. The opposite." 

"Maybe, you should scry again, while I'm here with you."

Blue heard a loud sigh. Adam looked up at the door and she shifted around to look behind her. Persephone stood there looking at them like they were both idiots. "I thought I strongly suggested that you don't scry while you're home, Adam."

"Suggested?" he retorted. "I seem to remember that conversation differently than you do."

"Well, obviously it was a suggestion, since you went ahead and did it anyway."

"It was an accident, Persephone." 

As she looked around at the painting, she said, "One that you plan on repeating."

"Blue only asked." Adam stood up. "I didn't say yes."

"But you were going to," Persephone said. "Blue, why don't you go downstairs and talk to Ronan."

She looked at Adam, who shrugged. "Sure," Blue said.

Downstairs, she found Ronan in the kitchen, dangling a string for Chainsaw, who was pouncing around on top of the table trying to catch it. 

Blue sat down across from him. "Your painting is magnificent, Ronan. How old were you when you started studying?"

Ronan shrugged. "Can't remember. Probably around the same time I learned how to walk. My mom always had us studying art and music."

"Do you still paint?"

"I stopped."

Chainsaw leapt into the air and landed in front of Blue, looking dazed and startled. "You're such a good girl. Yes, you are." Chainsaw bounced away from her and went back to the string game. "Do you miss it?"

Ronan glared at her. She expected him to tell her to 'fuck off' or 'mind your own fucking business.' But he said, "Yeah."

They sat in silence while they watched Chainsaw chase the string. Adam and Persephone came back down with Adam looking pensive and Persephone looking airy. Adam took the string from Ronan and played with Chainsaw, until she got bored and decided to play with Persephone's long blonde hair. Laughing, Persephone shook it while Chainsaw sat, heading twisting from side-to-side, looking enthralled. 

Blue's phone buzzing broke up the game. It was a text from Gansey just checking in to say 'hello.' She hadn't told him where she was coming to the Barns that day. She hadn't had the chance.

"Ronan, I, um - I don't want to tell Gansey anything you don't want me to tell him, but I also don't want to lie to him." He continued to nibble at a thumbnail, looking unsure of what she meant. "About..." She waved hand at Adam. 

Adam tapped him on the leg. "I think you need to tell him about the other stuff too."

"Yeah, alright," Ronan replied, rolling his eyes. He leaned back and dug his phone out of his pocket. He tapped it and put it to his ear as he tipped his chair back, balancing it on the back legs. 

"Yo, Dick." Pause. "Yeah. Great. Fucking filled with merry and shit. Listen. The movie that I'm shooting, I wrote the script and I'm the executive producer. Also, it's my last movie then I'm retiring from Hollywood." Pause. "No more acting. Yes. That's what retiring means. Oh, and Parrish and I are dating. Good talk. See you next year." He hung up and dropped his phone on the table. He saw them all staring at him. "What? It's best to rip the bandaid off with him."

Putting her hand over her mouth, Blue laughed. He wasn't wrong. Gansey didn't always know when to back off a conversation. And, when it came to Ronan, more than once, she'd suggested to him that maybe he was too protective. She suspected that he still looked at Ronan as the lost teenager he was after his parents died. And later, after Finn had driven her and Persephone back to Fox Way, Gansey proved her right. 

"I'm worried, Blue," he said. "You don't know Ronan. He's fragile."

That wasn't the Ronan she saw at all. It wasn't surprising to her why Adam was attracted to him. Ronan was a fighter, like Adam. "He doesn't seem fragile to me," she replied. 

"He puts on a good front, but he's - he's been through so much. And, you know how I feel about Adam." She did. She knew that he adored Adam, respected him in a way she'd yet to see matched. "But sometimes he's cold and inconsiderate. I know he doesn't mean to be, Blue, I do. I'm worried he'll hurt Ronan without even knowing it."

She couldn't argue. She'd spent years stabbing cracks in Adam's armor, attempting to keep him from isolating himself and watching him both crave and recoil from the love and affection her and her family tried to pile on him. 

So, she couldn't argue because she was worried that Adam could hurt both Ronan _and_ himself without even knowing it.

~ ~ ~

Persephone touched the painted lake. The dreary day cast gray shadows over the painting, making it look slightly ominous and not cheerful and welcoming as it had the morning before. "It pulled you in?" she asked.

"No," Adam said. "Not exactly. More like it surrounded me."

"Interesting." She sat back on her heels and stared at the lake. Adam waited. She stood up, brushing her dress. "Seems it doesn't want to share itself with me."

"Really? But why would it come to me and not you. Your psychic abilities are much stronger than mine."

"Not stronger, Adam. Older. There's a difference. Cabeswater simply doesn't trust me."

She started towards the door, but Adam stopped her with a question. "Is Cabeswater something that existed and Ronan found it or did Ronan create it?"

"I suspect it has been around long before any of us were. It simply connected with Ronan and allowed him to mold it into something he found beautiful."

Beautiful was a word that Adam had assigned to things a lot in the past few days. He'd found so many things beautiful at the Barns: the Christmas tree decorated with ornaments handmade by the Lynch boys and their mother, the barn filled with Ronan's paintings that had told him more about Ronan's descent from a beautiful, sheltered life into one of violent pain and darkness than Ronan could have ever told him with words, the night sky when he stood on the crest of the hill and looked out over the field that blended into the forest, and Ronan.

And he thought it again, _beautiful_, looking out over the landscape, his hand on the open trunk of the Prius. In only a few days, he'd developed a peculiarly, strong fondness for this place and for… 

_Ronan_ stood on the porch staring out over the property. _Beautiful._

Adam tossed his bag in the trunk and shut it. Ronan was going to take the BMW and lead him out through the winding security roads. But Ronan wasn't moving. Adam went to him. 

"Hey," Adam said.

Ronan pulled Adam's hat out of his pocket. "You almost forgot this, Parrish." He pulled the hat onto Adam's head before he leaned in and kissed him. They had only shared a few kisses since yesterday morning in the kitchen. Ronan had often looked like he wanted to touch or kiss Adam but he held back. 

"What are you doing on the thirty-first?" Ronan asked.

"Hiding from Gansey, who'll drag me with him to Fox Way, if he thinks I'm spending it alone."

Ronan grabbed the pockets of Adam's black puffer coat and pulled him closer, kissing him again briefly on the lips. "I can save you. Come to my brother's party with me."

"Is it a family thing?"

"It's a Declan thing." Ronan stepped back, but didn't let go of Adam's coat. "It'll probably be all of his business associates and anyone he can network with. The invitation said 'casual cocktail party attire' because Declan's a pretentious dick. My brother Matthew will be there though. I promised him I'd go."

If Ronan had asked him over the phone or by text, Adam might've said 'no' or thought about it too long so that Ronan got angry or hurt. But Ronan was right in front of him, looking irresistible, pale cheeks and nose pink from the cold, trying to look nonchalant and not pulling it off very well. So, Adam said 'yes,' making Ronan smile and making Adam wonder how far he'd go to keep pulling that smile out of him.

Before Ronan shut the door of the BMW, Adam asked, "Will you bring Chainsaw back to D.C. with you?"

"Nah. I'll leave her here with Mary." 

Adam got into the Prius disappointed. 

In the daylight, the road in and out of the Barns didn't seem as bad. It was still confusing, but not as ominous as it was in the dark. Adam tried to memorize it as he followed Ronan. At the main road, Adam beeped his horn and Ronan replied. 

During the drive back to D.C., Adam distracted himself by catching up on NPR's Environmental podcast. He needed to stop himself from falling down a rabbit hole, obsessing endlessly about Ronan and all the different ways dating him could end. Leaving Ronan had been harder than he'd thought it would be. Taking it slow was not spending two straight days together. He knew that Ronan had wanted to ask him to stay. He was glad that he hadn't. Because Adam would have stayed and the thought of that shook him. 

Adam Parrish had had a plan, a very solid, sensible, well-designed plan and it hadn't included anyone else. Only, now there was Ronan Lynch and there was no going back to a Ronan Lynch-less world. If he wanted to move forward with Ronan, he'd have to adjust his plans, sometimes without warning. That was expected in any relationship, but Ronan and his lifestyle would be even more complicated, even more unsettling. 

He understood what it meant to be in a relationship. In theory. Most of what he understood about them, he'd learned from observing others and talks with his therapist and books. Adam's romantic history was filled with mostly crushes that never went anywhere and casual hookups. 

One of those crushes had been Blue. He'd met her shortly after he started Harvard, and Blue had started Boston College. They'd met at their part-time job at a local Boston pizza place. The first thought he'd had when he saw her was that he'd never seen anyone so beautiful. Their schedules had been in sync, working together every weekend, allowing them to become friends. 

Finally, around Halloween, Adam had worked up the nerve to ask her out on a date. He'd taken her to a haunted walk in an old Boston cemetery. That's when she'd told him about her family and ley lines and the corpse road. Had anyone else told him that their family saw people who were about to die, he would've assumed they were pulling a prank, trying to get him to believe them, so they could laugh at him when he did. But he'd believed Blue right away. 

He hadn't kissed her that night. That didn't happen until weeks later, when she'd taken him home to Fox Way for the first time at Thanksgiving break, and Persephone had said, "Oh, Blue, you found one of us." They'd kissed later that night in the backyard. It had been awkward for only a few seconds after and then they'd both laughed. 

"I don't have a brother," Blue'd said, "but I suspect that's what it'd feel like kissing him." 

Adam had nodded. "I don't have a sister _or_ a brother," he'd replied, "but I suspect that's what it'd feel like kissing them." 

"A brother? Well, aren't you full of surprises, Adam Parrish."

He'd thought that he'd loved her, and he did, still does, just not in a romantic way. 

Only once had he skittered along the edge of a serious relationship in his third year of grad school. Her name was Saira. Her intelligence and ambition had matched Adam's. He'd enjoyed the competition and engaging discussions between them. They spent several months together, more time than he'd ever spent with anyone he was having sex with. There'd been no verbal exchanges of affection or promises of a future. It had ended quietly and without drama when she graduated a year before him and moved to Portland. They'd kept in touch for a few years and he missed her for shorter than that. 

That night, when he was settled back in the brownstone, he'd just gotten into bed and turned out the light when his phone buzzed. It was a photo of Chainsaw curled up on the chair in front of the fire. Adam smiled and put the phone down on his nightstand. A few minutes later, he reached over and grabbed it.

_'Kiss her goodnight for me.'_

The next photo had Chainsaw tucked into a small blanket. Adam fell asleep smiling.

~ ~ ~

The coffee had just begun to fill the coffee pot when Gansey, looking exhausted, shuffled into the kitchen from his study.

"Up all night?" Adam asked. 

Gansey took off his glasses and rubbed his eye. "Practically. Woke up at three and couldn't go back to sleep. I heard you get in last night." 

Adam studied Gansey, trying to read him. The set of his shoulders and the way his eyes kept dodging away from Adam's made it was obvious that Gansey wanted to say something but didn't know how to begin. Adam started the conversation. "So, Ronan threw a lot at you yesterday, huh?"

Gansey's shoulders tensed up more. "Yeah."

"Are you angry?" He seemed angry.

"Yes. No. I mean. I'm disappointed. He's been here weeks, we were on set, and he never mentioned that he actually wrote the script." Adam poured them both coffee as Gansey talked. "How long did you know?"

"I found out the night he took me to the set."

Now, Adam felt bad. Gansey looked hurt. "Is that how long you've been dating too?"

"No. That's new. Christmas."

Gansey nodded, his fingers rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I don't know why he didn't tell me. He told you. You just met."

Adam couldn't help but be truthful. "Maybe it's because I'm not waiting for him to fall apart again."

"What? That's not what I'm – I don't want him to fall apart again!"

"I didn't say you wanted him to. I said that you were waiting for it to happen." 

Gansey snapped back, "I know you think you understand him, Adam, but you don't."

"I know that I don't understand him fully yet. That's just it. All I know is a man who has already admitted his faults, faced them, and has put himself on a better path. I don’t know the guy who fell apart. He hasn't hurt me like he hurt you. And I don't look at him with worry all the time." 

"I only want to…" He sagged into the nearest stool. "I experienced some of the worst of it firsthand and it hurt. It hurt watching him hurt. I only want him to let me be a part of the grand things too." 

"I hope I didn't overstep my bounds," Adam said. "Is it weird for you that we're dating?"

Gansey shook his head. "No. I want Ronan to be happy. I want you to be happy."

"Oh well…" Adam turned his back to pour more coffee into his mug. "It's all new. Nothing serious. We'll see how it goes."

When he turned back around and saw the expression on Gansey's face, he said, "That's it! That's the look, Gansey."

"Oh shit. Okay. I'm sorry. I can't help myself."

"Well, you don't have to worry about me sitting at home alone on New Year's Eve. Ronan asked me to go to his brother's party with him."

Gansey let out a low whistle. "And I thought I was going to have to deal with family scrutiny."

"Is Declan as bad as Ronan says?"

"No, not really. He's the real serious type and extremely over-protective of his brothers. It can be too much, but it's all because he cares." 

"What should I be prepared for?"

"An inquisition."

~ ~ ~

Adam sat alone at the research facility working on simulation models. Cabeswater was healthy and thriving, but it could be better. He wanted to introduce new plant life that raised the oxygen levels of the environment. He had set-up three different models and was working on a fourth when a text interrupted him.

_'Need to be at my brother's earlier than the party starts. I'll send a car to get you.'_

_'I can get an Uber.'_

_'I invited you'_

_'And I'm a big boy. I can find my way to a party.'_

_'JFC YOU'RE STUBBORN. Party starts at 8.'_

The next text that came in was Declan's address near Observatory Circle. It was less than a ten-minute drive away. Adam did a quick mental calculation of what time he would need to start getting ready. 

Another text came through with a video of Chainsaw chasing her tail. Adam played it four times by the time he was done the sixth model and was ready to go home. He played it again for Gansey during dinner, who urged him to send it to Blue. 

Later, Adam was lying in bed reading when a text came in from an unknown number.

_'What are you wearing tomorrow night?'_

_'Who is this?'_

_'Sorry!!! It's Lloyd!!! Not some rando pervert!!!'_

His phone started to ring. Lloyd wanted to FaceTime. 

"Adam! How are you?"

"Hi, Lloyd. I'm fine. You?"

"Five pounds fatter, full of cheese, and a little drunk."

Adam laughed. "I'm glad you're having fun."

Lloyd raised a martini glass filled with a red drink. "I like fun! I wanted to help you pick out what you're wearing to Declan's party."

"Did Ronan ask you to contact me?"

"Oh hell no. He's going to be fucking pissed when he finds out. I don't care though." 

"But he told you that I was going to Declan's?"

"Of course not. Matthew told me. Oh my god. Am I scaring you off or something?"

"No, but why is what I wear important to everyone? Is Ronan's brother worried I'll embarrass them? That I'll look like I don't belong? Or that I'm not good enough for Ronan?"

"No. Oh, Adam. God. No. A thousand times no! I'm such a jerk. Please don't think that. I'm sure whatever you want to wear will be perfect. I'm just an idiot. I was talking with Matthew, and I'm so happy that Ronan came to his senses and told you how he felt about you. And this is what my friends and I do before dates. I thought we - I just wanted to... I don't know. Sorry, again, I'll let you go."

"Wait. Well, I had an idea, but I wasn't sure about it. I could use someone's opinion."

Lloyd's face perked up. "Consider me your own fairy godmother. Let me see it on."

"What?"

"Put it on and let me see it."

Adam hadn't been expecting that. "I was just going to tell you about it."

"That won't work. I need to see the fit and if the colors make those eyes even bluer." 

"Okay. Give me five minutes. I'll call you back."

"Do you have an iPad?"

"Yeah." 

"Call me back on that. I'll be able to see better."

The truth was that Adam had decided on wearing just gray trousers and a white button-down shirt. He'd played round with the thought of adding a vest that he'd worn when he was in a friend from grad school's wedding. But worried that he'd look weird in it, so he'd decided on something that didn't make him feel like he was standing out. 

It was a single-breasted, wool, medium gray herringbone vest. He found it in his closet and put it one with his fitted dark gray, casual trousers and a white button-down. He really didn't know which tie or maybe no tie at all. He pulled a few ties out of his closet and called Lloyd back on his iPad that he rested against the lamp on his dresser.

"Adam Parrish!" Lloyd exclaimed, putting his hand to his mouth. "That is a perfect look for you and a fabulous choice for the party."

"Yeah?"

"Oh, hell yeah." 

"Tie or no tie?"

"Um." Lloyd tilted his head from side-to-side. "Tie." Adam held up three different ties. "The solid dark blue one. Roll up your sleeves to the elbow and unbutton the vest's bottom button." Adam put on the tie and fixed the sleeves and vest. "Turn around. Let me see the fit." Adam felt silly, but he did it. "Perfect! One bit of advice on the hair. Go really casual. Tousled look. It'll offset the seriousness of the tie and vest."

"Okay. Thanks, Lloyd. I really appreciate your help."

"Again, I'm really sorry."

"No need to apologize. Truth is you only triggered a reaction to thoughts that had already been in my head."

"Hey, I get it. But, trust me, you have nothing to worry about." Lloyd smiled and winked. "Night, handsome. See you in a few days."

Before Adam took his clothes off, he took a moment to look at himself in the mirror that hung on the inside of the closet door. He really didn't look half-bad. He thought that he might actually look like he fit in with the sort of people, who had cocktail parties on New Year's Eve, in one of D.C.'s richest neighborhoods. 

He thought he might actually look like he might be someone that Ronan Lynch would date.

The next night, he stood inside Declan's expensive home, surrounded by people who were probably all contenders for one of those "Most Influential Under 35" lists, feeling pretty confident in his clothing choice, since Ronan hadn't stopped looking at him as if he didn't have on any clothes at all. 

Declan Lynch noticed too. "I thought you two were lying low and didn't want this to get out to the gossip press."

"We don't," Ronan said gruffly. 

"Then you might want to stop looking at Adam like _that_ before someone snaps a pic." 

Adam's cheeks heated. Directness must be a Lynch trait. 

Ronan didn't look even the slightest abashed. "No one here is going to pull a stunt like that and piss you off, Declan."

"I forgot – Ronan knows _everything_," Declan said and walked away. Most of the brothers' interactions had been like this all night - slight, often childish, digs at each other. If it went on too long, Matthew Lynch would show up, saying something funny or sweet to distract and defuse. 

"How can you be so sure?" Adam asked.

"Power. These assholes want it and are afraid of it. And Declan has more of it."

Ronan's phone vibrated. He checked it and shoved it back in his pocket. "Matthew's downstairs. There's a ping-pong table. He wants me to play."

Ping-pong and Ronan were a combination that Adam hadn't ever expected to encounter, but Adam was quickly learning that Ronan would do anything for his little brother.

"Go on," Adam said. "I'm going to the bathroom and grabbing another soda. Want one?"

"A bottle of water. Watch out for predators." He gave a curt nod towards Declan. "He's been waiting to pounce."

Adam watched Ronan walk away. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Declan watching him. He was pretty sure that the way he looked at Ronan tonight was pretty obvious too. Ronan looked painfully handsome, confident, and so cool in all black: black jeans, a tight black t-shirt under a black blazer with tuxedo lapels. And, of course, his combat boots. It was hard for Adam to keep his eyes off him. Trying to keep his hands off him was another story.

On his way back from the bathroom, he found Declan waiting for him in the hallway. "You know, if I didn't know about you from Gansey months ago, I'd think my brother hired you to try to get me off his back."

"Seriously?"

"You look great on paper. You look great in person. Hard to believe you're real."

"No. That's not what I meant. Do you think Ronan would ever do something that fake?"

Declan titled his head, considering him. "What's your history, Adam? I know about Georgetown Prep, Harvard, Princeton, now you're the hot young, genius doctoral ecologist at Georgetown U. What about before that – what's that story?"

"I think you already know the answer to that. You're only trying to see if I'll admit to it."

Declan nodded, seeming to, at least for now, accept Adam's rebuttal. Adam had faced people like Declan before. They weren't hard to workout as long as you knew what they wanted. And, right now, Declan only wanted to see how far he could push Adam and how much Adam would push back.

"Did he have you sign an NDA?" Declan asked.

"I signed one on set."

"That was for the movie. You need to sign one now that you're _involved_ in his personal life."

"If Ronan wants me to sign an NDA and he asks me to sign one, we'll discuss it together."

Declan chuckled, shaking his head. "I see you two have already established a united front."

Adam didn't respond. There was nothing to respond to. 

Declan gave Adam's bicep a friendly squeeze. "Come on. Let me introduce you to a few important people for you to know. This administration might not be going anywhere anytime soon. Won't hurt to have other options for research dollars."

~ ~ ~

Adam finally joined them when they were playing their tie-breaking third game. Ronan won by only two points and Matthew begged for three out of five.

"Actually," Adam said, "Declan's looking for you Matthew."

"Oh, yeah?" Matthew looked at Ronan, torn between choosing his brothers. He was usually Ronan's sidekick during parties, attempting to keep Ronan from getting bored and acting out.

"Go on," Ronan said. "Adam'll keep me company."

"Okay, but I want a rematch!" Matthew bounded upstairs.

More people had wandered down to the basement. Ronan and Adam went back upstairs where it had gotten more crowded. The party was reaching its peak. A few people, stopped Ronan to shake his hand. Someone asked for a selfie. Adam stood back and watched. 

"Let's see if there's a quiet spot in the kitchen," Ronan said.

"Actually…" Adam looked at his watch. "Do you want to get out of here?"

"Parrish, I wanted to get the hell out of here a half an hour before the party started. Back to the brownstone?"

"No." Adam raised his eyebrows. "I've got a better idea. Let's steal some food out of the kitchen."

Five minutes later, they dodged and evaded Declan, grabbed their coats and snuck out the front door. Ronan had a bag filled with a few handfuls of peeled shrimp, half of the cheese and charcuterie board, two slices of cheese cake, and the necessary plates and utensils. He looked questioningly at the bottle and two champagne glasses in Adam's hand.

Adam held it up. "Sparkling cider."

They got into Ronan's BMW. As Ronan started the engine, he asked, "Where to Parrish?"

"Cabeswater."

Ronan looked at him in surprise.

"Is that okay?" Adam asked.

"Yeah. It's okay."

At the facility, Adam instructed Ronan to take off his shoes. He pointed out slippers that Ronan could wear, but said that he preferred to go barefoot. Ronan did the same and he followed Adam into the forest. 

Seeing Adam in a vest, tie, and barefoot walking on the lush grass completely short-circuited Ronan's brain. He followed Adam through the forest attempting to jump start it again, but Adam looking the way he did was making that impossible. Adam could be walking him off the edge of a cliff and he'd happily follow him right over the edge. But he didn't. He led them down a path to a clearing. It wasn't very big, but there was a large rock and a small pond. 

Adam laid down the blanket that Ronan had gotten from his trunk. Ronan sat on the rock and watched as Adam got comfortable, taking off his tie and unbuttoning his vest, fantasizing that he was the one undressing him. 

"What?" Adam sat on his hunches, smirking at him.

"Shut up, asshole, you know what." Ronan stood up and turned around to take off his blazer and to hide his blush. Her sat back down and held out his hand. "Give me some of those shrimp."

Adam rested his back against the rock next to Ronan's leg and ate the cheese as Ronan ate the shrimp.

"Are there fish in the pond?" Ronan asked.

"Grass carp. They eat the algae."

"What's that sound?"

"Amboli bush frogs." He pulled out his phone and toyed with it until he held up a photo of a tiny frog in a hand. Ronan recognized it immediately as Adam's. He'd studied every inch of those hands, the dips between the bony knuckles on the back of it, the way his fingers looked both delicate and masculine. Ronan didn't think he'd ever noticed anyone's hands the way he'd noticed Adam's. 

"They're noisy little fuckers," Ronan said.

"That's the male's mating call."

"Cool. Good luck, man!" Ronan called out. "Fortes fortuna adiuvat."

"Latin," Adam said, sounding impressed.

They ate and talked about the forest, Ronan asking questions and Adam answering them with passion and devotion, making Ronan a little jealous of it. It all felt very comfortable; so, even when he had thoughts of wishing he had a beer, the burning shame and guilt that followed didn't last long. Sometime, during an explanation of how they recreated the atmosphere, including periodic rainstorms, Ronan started to play with the hair on the nape of Adam's neck, and Adam responded by resting his head against Ronan's thigh.

An alarm on Adam's phone went off. He stopped it and looked up at Ronan. "Tempus edax rerum," he said, grinning devilishly. "Three minutes to midnight."

His pronunciation was crap, but it had made Ronan smile.

"Scoot up," Ronan said. Adam looked confused. Ronan nudged him on the back. Adam moved up on the blanket, and Ronan slid off the rock behind him, putting his legs on both sides of Adam. Adam rested back into him, and Ronan put his arms around his chest.

Ronan felt Adam's breath hitch and he tensed up for a moment. "You okay?" Ronan asked.

"I'm okay." Adam shifted slightly on his hips. He put the phone on the side where they both could see the timer counting down. "I bet it's not as exciting as you're used to on New Year's Eve."

In a moment of unusual openness, Ronan said, "There is no place in the entire world I'd rather be right now. Or no one I'd rather be with."

Both of Adam's hands came up and clung to Ronan's that were clasped against his chest. 

Thirty seconds to midnight.

One thousand and fifty-two days since Ronan last had a drink.

Twenty-five seconds to midnight.

Thirty days since Adam had crashed his bike into Ronan's car and his life.

He closed his eyes and buried his face in the crook of Adam's neck and thought one simple word - _'please'_ \- because he didn't know exactly when it'd happened - maybe it'd been that first morning when he'd seen Adam looking sleepy and vulnerable and so not like the man who'd been arguing with him the night before, or when he'd seen those mathematical equations scribbled in his notebook, or when he'd learned that even with all of the education and knowledge Adam had collected, he still believed in magic, or when he'd found out that Adam was the bravest person he'd ever known - but he could no longer deny that, somewhere in the last thirty days, he’d fallen unquestionably, painfully, unreservedly, immutably, head-over-fucking-heels in breathtaking, stupefying, world-shattering, heart-stopping love with Adam Parrish.

"Fifteen seconds," Adam said.

"Do you want to pour the cider?"

"Nope. That'd mean I'd have to move."

Ronan felt hopeful.

"Five seconds," Adam said.

Exactly at midnight, Adam twisted his face to Ronan and they kissed softly. 

"Happy New Year, Ronan."

Ronan had to bite back all the pledges of devotion that threatened to spill from his lips. Instead, he closed his eyes again and lightly kissed Adam's neck and prayed, _'please – please let it not be just me.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!
> 
> Fortes fortuna adiuvat: Fortune favors the bold  
Tempus edax rerum: time, that devours all things


	8. Chapter 8

_'There is no place in the entire world I'd rather be right now. _

_Or no one I'd rather be with.'_

Oh god, he was pathetic. 

Adam slammed his laptop closed and banged his forehead against it. He wasn't getting any work done because he couldn't stop thinking about last night, couldn't stop thinking about the way Ronan had kissed him, the way Ronan had looked at him, the way Ronan had said, _'Or no one I'd rather be with.'_ It had given him a pleasant feeling, a warm thrumming inside of his chest that came back each time he thought about it.

Ronan had wanted to be with _him_. 

And Adam had wanted to be there too. He'd been there, present in the moment, not worrying about the future or his plan or what else he could be doing that was more productive. He'd been right there in Ronan's arms, comfortable and relaxed, feeling like that's exactly where he was supposed to be. 

He'd wanted to be there with Ronan.

And Ronan wanted to be with _him_. 

Ronan. Ronan who'd kissed him at the front door last night as if they were teenagers on their first date. Ronan who, in the middle of a party filled with important, attractive people, had texted Mary to check on his kitten. Ronan who could take beautiful worlds from out of his dreams and recreate them with his hands.

_Ronan_ who right now was standing in front of him in the kitchen wearing an expensive looking suit and tie. 

Adam blinked. And blinked again to make sure he wasn't seeing things. No. It was real. Ronan stood there, looking handsome and menacing in everything dark gray: the suit, the tie, even the shirt. The only bright thing on him was a silver tie-clip. 

"What do you have a job interview?" Adam asked, laughing.

"Church."

Adam laughed again. Ronan didn't. "You're not kidding. Church?"

"Yeah. Church."

"It's not Sunday." Adam pointed out.

"It's a Holy Day of Obligation."

"A what?"

"It's a Catholic thing. January first is the feast day of Mary."

"As in the virgin?"

"Yes, Parrish. As in the virgin. The mother of God."

Adam noticed Ronan's feet. There were no combat boots. He had on serious business, classic black loafers.

"Is church a regular thing for you?" 

Ronan grabbed a water from the fridge as he replied, "Used to be. We went as a family. Matthew and Declan still go." 

His body language, signaled 'end of story.' His face sporting a half-smirk, half-scowl combination, he leaned his ass against the counter, flaunting his long legs out in front of him. Adam's heart skipped. Ronan's perfectly tailored suit accentuated his broad shoulders, strong arms, and _'my god those thighs.'_ Adam remembered what it felt like to be in-between them last night, how every time Ronan kissed Adam's neck or whispered something in his ear, he'd squeeze his thighs holding Adam gently between them.

Ronan raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Shut up, asshole, you know what."

The side of Ronan's lip curved up slightly. "I think it's blasphemy or something, lusting after someone on their way to church."

"I think it's an actual sin for you to be walking around looking like that."

"I think you need Jesus, Parrish."

"Unless, you call your cock 'Jesus,' then I'm good."

Ronan choked on his water, making Adam worry that he'd gone too far.

Just as Adam opened his mouth to apologize, Ronan wiped his mouth with the back of his had and a smile appeared, tender and fond. "Adam Parrish, you are going to be the fucking death of me."

~ ~ ~

Ronan sat on his bed fooling around with a drawing pad and a few colored pencils, getting the feel for them again, remembering how the scratch of the paper felt vibrating through the pencil into his fingers.

When his phone rang, the caller ID flashing Lloyd, he hit the speaker. "Yeah."

"TMZ posted a photo of you and your brothers coming out of church yesterday."

"Fucking happy new year to you too, Lloyd."

"It's not bad. Nothing controversial."

"I don't give a fuck if it's bad. Those fucking parasites were in D.C.?"

"It wasn't paps. It was taken with a phone. We tracked it to some kid who tweeted it."

"They'll be on their way though, if they think I'm hanging around here. Fuck. We've only got four more location shoots before we wrap."

"That's why you're going to fly back to L.A.. Get papped for a few days and fly back."

"Fuck you, Lloyd."

"I know, sweetie. It sucks. You're booked on the five-forty-eight out of Reagan. Get to Declan's. Driver will pick you up at three-thirty. He'll leak where he picked you up and dropped you off."

"Again, fuck you."

"I know, darling. I love you a lot too. I'll be at LAX when you arrive."

Ronan hung up and searched for the photo. It didn't take long. TMZ had posted it only twenty-three minutes ago. Ronan's people had caught it and reacted quickly. The headline, in bold, black obnoxious font, read, _"The Lynch Brothers all together, all grown-up... HAVE THEY BURIED THE HATCHET!?!?"_ The photo was of them leaving as they walked down the steps of St. Patrick's Church. Ronan with his hand on Matthew's shoulder, Declan lagging a step behind. It was actually a nice photo. They all looked intimate and brotherly. Wiping out any pleasant feelings was the photo next to it. The photo of them at their parents' funeral, young and shattered, the invasive image eternally trapping them in their grief. 

There was an accompanying article, without a doubt, going over the same tragic death of his parents, the brothers' public fights, Ronan's arrests, his drunken bullshit, him dating a fucking psychopath, all of it. The same fucking exhausting shit over and over. 

_It'll never be over._

They'll always be the products of one of Hollywood's most famous, celebrated couple. Niall and Aurora Lynch had met on-set when they were both twenty-three, fresh, vibrant, and both shining, but together, they blinded like the sun. Their relationship had been an unusual Hollywood love story, unmanufactured and real. For decades, the press and the public devoured it, craving every little detail of their lives. 

The Lynch Brothers will always be a detail and forever wrapped up and suffocated in that legacy. But Ronan had carved a bullseye right in the middle of his forehead. The shame of his choices rose up like bile in his throat, his past tasting rancid in his mouth. He needed to get rid of the foul taste of it, drown it in something stronger, something so strong that he can't taste his regrets and the never-ending sorrow. 

One summer, when he was a kid, him and Matthew had gone for a hike in the mountains. It wasn't until they'd gotten halfway up the mountain when they realized they'd left their water bottles behind. Ronan had already been feeling dehydrated. They'd turned back and headed down the mountain at the hottest part of the day. By the time, they'd reached the bottom, Ronan had never felt so thirsty before. The instinct to feed his thirst had been so strong that he would've ripped through a concrete wall with his bare hands to get to a bottle of water.

That's exactly how he felt about alcohol right now. 

He stormed out of the bedroom, not knowing where he was going, only knowing he had to get there. 

He needed to drown.

"Hey." Adam stood in his own bedroom door, looking exhilarated and radiating energy from a run. He wiped his sweaty bangs back from his forehead. He leaned his shoulder against the door frame and looked at Ronan, his eyes pensive, scrutinizing. His very blue eyes. Blue eyes Ronan could drown in.

He held Adam's face when he kissed him, walking him backwards into the room, desperately digging inside of himself to find his lust buried underneath the compulsion and addiction.

When Adam's legs hit the bed, Adam pulled his face away. He cupped the back of Ronan's neck in his hand and squeezed gently. "Ronan, this isn't what you want." Something burst inside of Ronan. He tried to step back, but Adam stopped him, holding onto his biceps. Without breaking eye contact, he asked, "Do you want to talk?"

"No," Ronan said, his voice hoarse and wounded. "Yes. I don't know. Maybe." 

Adam sat on the bed. He wrapped his fingers around Ronan's wrist and tugged gently. Ronan fought the urge to snap at him and storm out. He reminded himself he was more, so much more, than the toxic reflexes hardwired into him. He sat next to Adam, pressing their sides together and pulled out his phone to show Adam the TMZ article. 

"I don't understand people," Adam said. "Why would someone want to look at someone else's pain for entertainment?"

"Funeral was supposed to be private. Piece of scum hid in a tree for over a day to take the photo."

"A tree?"

"He sold it for a quarter of a million dollars." Ronan bent over, jamming his elbows into his thighs, and rested his forehead against his palms. "I was a goddamn idiot for getting into acting."

Adam's fingers massaged the back of his head and neck. "I never told you. I did know who you were. I didn't recognize you that night, and I didn't know you'd become an actor. But I'd seen that photo - back then - after the funeral." Adam paused. In the short silence, he made circles with his fingertips at the nape of Ronan's neck. The feeling of tenderness that it brought Ronan, the knowing that Adam cared, sat on top of Ronan's impulses and addiction, an anchor weighing them down. 

"When I saw the photo just now," Adam continued, "I looked at you and thought of me, seeing it back then, and thought how incredibly young we were, how traumatized we were."

Ronan had fixated on Adam's running shoes. They were worn. More on the left foot than the right. He needed knew ones. 

"One thousand and fifty-three days," Ronan said.

"What?"

"One thousand and fifty-three days - that's how long I've gone without a drink."

Adam didn't say "GREAT JOB!" or "YOU'RE AMAZING!" or give him any verbal praise at all. But he pressed harder against Ronan's side and squeezed Ronan's shoulder and asked, "End of today? Or was that at the end of yesterday?"

Ronan sat up straight and looked at him. "Uh... end of yesterday."

"So, when you fall asleep tonight, it'll be one thousand and fifty-four then?"

"Yeah," Ronan said. "Yeah. It will."

~ ~ ~

Blue had an office at Georgetown University because she was an actual employed research analyst in the Department of Biology. Adam, who was a lowly doctoral student, only had access to a shared office. So, on the days they were both at the school, which they were today, since it was the first day back after winter break, they ate lunch in Blue's tiny, windowless office.

Sitting across from him, at her desk that looked like it'd been pulled from a 1950s secretarial pool, Blue stared at Adam as he took his food out of a brand-new lunch tote. He kept his head down, unwrapping his sandwich, ignoring her scrutinizing look. 

"So…" She pointed. "Is that ciabatta bread?"

"Uh-huh."

"Uh. Looks like mozzarella too." 

"Yes. It's a Mediterranean pressed sandwich."

"Oh. A _pressed_ sandwich."

"If you stop being cute for one second," he reached into his bag and pulled out another sandwich, "he made one for you too."

"Oh, gimme!" She grabbed it out of his hand, unwrapped it fast, and took a huge bite. "Mmmm… it's so good."

With a mouthful of food, Adam nodded. He pulled out a bowl and pulled open the lid, tilting it for her to see the rice pudding inside. 

Her eyes twinkled. "Dessert too?" 

Adam sighed. "Go ahead, Blue. Say what you want to say."

"He's making you lunch." Mockingly, she fluttered her eyelashes at him. "It's adorable!"

"It's not a big deal. He got back from shooting in the middle of the night and couldn't sleep."

"I'm just saying - he's surprisingly very sweet to you. Have you been spending a lot of time together?"

"Not really. Not since we all hung out that night he got back from L.A.."

"You mean our double-date?"

"It wasn't a double-date. It was hanging out and Noah was there."

"It was two couples -"

"And Noah," Adam pointed out, again.

"Playing board games. That's a double-date."

"I'd hardly call what Ronan was doing _playing_ a board game," Adam said, remembering Ronan's scowl and sharp remarks about 'nerds'.

"He seemed to enjoy yelling 'SORRY' whenever he could," Blue said, laughing. 

Adam chuckled. They went back to the pudding, eating it in silence, while Adam turned over a thought in his head.

Blue clucked her tongue, pulling him out of his own mind. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing. Not really. But do you think… do you think that I'm only attracted to Ronan because he wants me and he's nice to me?"

"What? Where's this coming from?"

"It's something my therapists have always warned me to watch out for."

"Having someone want to be with you and being nice to you?"

"Abuse survivors sometimes fall for the first person who shows them serious interest and is nice to them."

Blue's eyebrows shot up on her forehead. "You're joking?"

"No. Why would I joke about something like that?"

"I don't mean that it doesn't happens. I'm sure it does. I mean are you joking that it's happening to you?"

"I'm not joking. Not even close."

"Adam, Ronan is not the first person to fall all over themselves to get your attention and your affection. Trust me. I've been watching people do it for _years_."

"You're exaggerating." 

"I'm not."

"Name," he tapped his knuckles on the table, "one," he tapped them again.

"David. I don't remember his last name. Sophomore year. He gave you a ride home from work every Friday and Saturday night for an entire term."

"We lived in the same dorm, and he worked right down the street at that pizza place. He drove me home after his shift. Hardly, a -"

"His shift ended two hours before yours."

"No. No. It didn’t. You're wrong."

She nodded. "It did. I'm certain. Two hours before. He waited for you."

"Okay. So, David was creepy."

"Adam! He wasn't – "

"That's one person."

"Haley Peterson. The British botanist. When we were in Brazil and were all on limited internet time, she gave up her time, on more than one occasion, to you, when you were freaking out about needing to research something."

"That was professional courtesy."

"Right. And you weren't having sex with her?"

"The two things are not mutually exclusive. Seriously, Blue, I think you're –"

"Meredith, who lived downstairs from you when you were living on P Street."

"I know who Meredith is."

"She used to always need to walk to the library at the same time you did. And Brandon."

"Who?"

"The barista at Midnight Mug, who's always obviously trying to find a way to ask you out. He knows you're at the library every Friday morning. He saves you a cinnamon raisin bagel. These are just off the top of my head. I could go on."

"No! Thank you. I get your point. I'm cold and selfish."

"That's not what I'm saying. At all. So, just stop it. You're far from any of those things. I'm only showing you that you're not attracted to Ronan simply because he's interested in you and showing you some basic kindness."

Adam thought back to a few days ago, Ronan sitting on his bed, tense, angry, and very hurt. Adam didn't give away his compassion easily and physically consoling someone even less so, but he'd felt an intense desire to comfort Ronan's suffering. He'd actually had to restrain himself from pulling Ronan to his chest and wrapping his arms around him, because he'd feared it would be too intimate, too soon in this stage of their relationship. 

"Why now though?" he asked "If all those other people were interested… why _Ronan_? Why _now_?"

"I don't know, Adam" she said, sighing. "You're more mature. You've spent a lot of time working on your mental health. You're more comfortable with people. I'm sure it's not just one specific thing. It's a combination of them." She shrugged, scrapping the last of the pudding onto her spoon. "Does it matter why?"

She wasn't wrong. He'd spent a lot of time in therapy working on how to cope with people. He'd spent a lifetime before that trying to analyze people, wanting to learn how to predict their behavior. He needed to accept that he couldn't. He could make educated guesses based on body language, verbal clues, and a person's past behavior, but it wasn't an exact science. People were unpredictable because their emotions made them do illogical things. He'd accepted that. It was his own unpredictably that still rattled him. 

The night Ronan had knocked him off his bike with his car door, he couldn't have predicted how he felt about Ronan now. Right now, he wouldn't be able to predict how he'll feel about him in the future. 

Adam recognized that something inside him had shifted to make room for Ronan in his life. The way he felt about Ronan was new and distinct from any way he'd felt before. 

Persephone had told him not to scry when he'd been home for Christmas, but didn't advise him not to scry once he wasn't. Before bed, after he'd checked that Gansey wasn't home, he went into the office with a wood scrying bowl, a gift from Blue a few birthdays ago, and his cards.

He knocked three times on the cards and shuffled them three times before placing them next to the bowl. After a couple of deep breaths, he focused on the water in the bowl and relaxed his mind. Within a few seconds, he felt the seam to his second sight opening; he pushed through it, expanding it wider, but not too wide, just enough like he'd learned from Persephone. He saw the bowl and the desk underneath it through a hazy lens of iridescence. He smelled Cabeswater. 

He split the cards into three piles and flipped over the top cards. Gently, he closed the seam and analyzed the cards: Three of Swords (reversed), Ten of Swords (reversed), the Hanged Man (upright).

The reversed three and ten of swords were frequent visitors in his readings. They pushed him to deal with and overcome his grief and pain. He was trying to accept that would be a lifelong battle for him.  
The third card was new though. The Hanged Man predicted obstacles that put things on hold, sometimes forced on the subject for their own good. The Hanged Man wanted Adam to accept the obstacle and use it as a step towards something new. 

It didn't take long for Adam to hit a huge obstacle that put a lot of things on hold. The next day, after several days of compiling and analyzing his simulation models, he'd discovered that none of them were successful. He'd hit a brick wall in his research. He couldn't move forward. He hadn't planned for this. He'd been confident in, not all, but several of his models. He wouldn't get his Ph.D.. He'd lose his grants. He'd lose the respect of his mentors and colleagues. All of his sacrifices and hard work would be for nothing.

Adam went into crisis mode, locking himself down inside the research facility, narrowing his world to only two things: him and a problem that needed to be solved.

~ ~ ~

Ronan dropped a box of Insomnia cookies on the table, next to the Dunkin' Donuts munchkins, and looked for Rob. He found him setting up the folding chairs. He saw Ronan, smiled slightly, and sighed. Ronan suspected he knew what Ronan had come to ask.

"Hey," he said, sounding exhausted or maybe sad.

"Has Andre been around?"

"No. I was hoping you'd heard from him."

"Last I heard from him was over a week ago. My texts aren't showing delivered. I got concerned, so I called yesterday. It went straight to voicemail."

"Shit. His sponsor Kevin reached out to me yesterday. He blocked him too."

"Maybe he's just..."

Rob shook his head. "We know what it means, Ronan. He's drinking again."

"Do you know where he lives? I could go and try to talk to him."

"_You_ know the drill. _He_ knows the drill. You can't drag him back here. He has to come back on his own."

Ronan's brain short-circuited. He wasn't thinking, only feeling, anger and frustration. "Fuck!" He pushed a chair, sending it flying across the room. He stormed towards the door, lashing out again on a small trash can, kicking it and sending crushed paper coffee cups, coffee stirrers, empty sugar packets, and napkins sliding across the floor. 

Outside, the cold, icy air smacked him in the face, rebooting his brain. A temper tantrum wasn't helping Andre, him, or any of the alcoholics inside, who were here and fighting to stay sober.

He went back inside. Everyone had taken their seats. No one had cleaned up his mess. Without a word, he put everything back into the trash, grabbed the chair he'd shoved out of the circle, put it down next to Rob with a bang and sat in it. He was the first to speak. "Hi, I'm Ronan. I'm an alcoholic. I don't know if addiction is technically a disease, but whatever the fuck it is, we sure as hell didn't choose it. No matter what some assholes think. I was that asshole once. I was wrong. No one wants to be a slave to fucking fermented yeast." A tiny rumble of laughter went around the group. "And every time that I think I have an understanding of how it works, something changes and I realize that I still don't know shit. Yeah, so thanks for listening."

Rob approached after Ronan after the meeting. "You okay?"

Ronan grunted and nodded.

"I mean okay-okay? You have a sponsor, right?"

"Yeah - yeah. He's back in L.A., but we talk regularly." 

Rob handed him a business card. "Sometimes you need face-to-face." 

"Thanks, man," Ronan said, slipping the card into his back pocket. 

"Let this go too, Ronan. It's something you can't control."

He knew that Rob was right. He couldn't drag Andre back to the program, but he couldn't stop feeling like he had to do something. The first time Ronan had gotten sober, when he thought he could do it on his own, and crashed again, he'd stayed in the gutter longer than he needed to, refusing to reach out to his sponsor or his brothers because he was too embarrassed and worried that he'd see disappointment in their eyes. He wanted to let Andre know somehow that he'd be there for him, no matter what.

While Finn drove him to the set, he tried to call Andre. Again, it went straight to voicemail. He checked his text. Nothing from Andre. Nothing from Adam, who he hadn't heard from or seen in two days. Before Ronan had headed off to bed that morning, he'd heard Blue in the kitchen telling Gansey that Adam had been working almost non-stop on a problem with his research. Ronan pictured Adam looking like he had that first night Ronan had seen Cabeswater - sitting in front of a computer, notebook close by, his eyes intense, laser-focused, a deep worry crease between his eyebrows. Ronan wanted to press his thumb against it and smooth it away with his touch and soft, reassuring words.

Ronan recalled that Andre had asked him if he was the one tweeting from his Twitter account. Ronan had explained that he had a social media public relations specialist managing the account. Andre had said he would follow him anyway - _'Just in case you get the urge to tweet me someday.'_

Ronan didn't know Andre's twitter handle to tweet him directly, but he hoped this would be good enough.

He texted Lloyd.

_'Have someone tweet this for me. _

_A – Here's your tweet. No judgement. Ever. I'm here if you need me. – RNL'_

Lloyd responded with protest and a lot of exclamation points - _'The press will go crazy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Who is A??!!!!!!!!!!! It's not Adam. Who the fuck is it?!!!!! Why are you starting something now??!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!'_

Ronan texted back, _'This is important.'_

Lloyd responded, _'Goddamn you, Lynch.'_

By the time Ronan's being setup for his shot, the tweet had been posted. But still no text from Adam. 

Despite Ronan's sour mood, their last night shot went extremely well, making Ronan anxious to get the last bit of filming, a sunrise shot at the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool, done. The weather reports were calling for a serious snowstorm starting late tomorrow night, but the weather expert that Anna consulted had said to expect the sky to be clear long enough in the morning to get the perfect sunrise shot. 

Anna gave him a call time of six a.m., leaving him five and half hours. The crew moved the trailers to the new location, and Ronan stayed with them. He didn't see the sense in heading back to the brownstone. He hung around with the crew and took a nap for a few hours in the trailer. Luck was on their side. Though, Ronan could smell snow in the air, the sky had only a few clouds and the sun was an orange glow of glorious perfection. Ronan stood opposite the Monument and took a photo. He sent it to Adam with a simple message, _'take a breath, Parrish.'_

~ ~ ~

The fourth simulation finished and the fifth was at forty-eight percent when Adam's vision started to blur. He'd found the broken equation in his algorithms yesterday and spent all night rewriting and rebooting the simulations. It would take another week to compile the data and weed through it before he discovered if any of them were viable, but he wasn't feeling as frantic now that he'd pinpointed the problem.

His drive and ambition pushed him to continue; maybe it was age or he was out of practice, his body protested. He rubbed at his eyes and the more he rubbed the more nauseated he felt. He stood and stretched, cracking his back and neck. Stiffness, from sitting still in one spot for hours, had settled down deep in his muscles. 

He headed for the kitchenette to grab a bottle of water and something to eat. On his way, he ran into Joe, one of the technicians, in the hall, bundled up in outwear. 

"Hey, Adam, you better get out of here. Couple of inches out there already." Adam had no idea it was snowing or that it was supposed to snow. "You need a ride? My wife's out front with the SUV. She's dropping off a few people at the metro station." 

"Is it - is it supposed to get worse?" Adam asked.

"Where have you been? They're calling for a blizzard. Predicting fourteen or more inches."

"I've been working. Not paying attention to much else. You sure it's no bother?"

"No bother," Joe said. 

"Cool. Let me grab my things."

"Sure. Meet us in the lobby."

He packed up his things quickly and grabbed his coat, all the while trying and failing to think of any reasonable reason why he should stay. Disappointed that he couldn't come up with one, he met Joe in the lobby. Once in the car, Adam pulled out his phone to read through all of the text messages he'd ignored since this morning. He'd checked them last night before he'd caught a few hours sleep on the sofa in the lounge. Since then Blue had texted him two times with warnings about the storm and three times telling him that the snow had started and urging him to go home. Gansey had texted him twice: once to ask if he'd left yet and the other was a text to him, Noah, and Ronan telling them he would be staying at Blue's throughout the storm. 

The last unread text, the first he'd received this morning, was a photo from Ronan, a long shot of the reflecting pool, the horizon glowing orange and yellow behind the Monument and in the reflecting pool. Adam saved it to his phone and tapped the heart and felt a pang of guilt for ignoring Ronan's text over the last few days. He hadn't really thought about it at the time, but, if he had, he would've expected Ronan to get angry or upset with him, but he didn't. Instead, he'd sent him a photo of a beautiful sunrise and a reminder, not a criticism, to relax. On his last day of shooting, Ronan had been thinking about him.

Forgetting his disappointment in the disruption, Adam hoped the Metro was running smoothly. He suddenly had a very strong desire to get home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big payoffs next chapter, I promise!
> 
> Thanks for everyone who is reading, leaving kudos or comments! You're amazingly supportive.


	9. Chapter 9

A Love Story in Three Acts  
Act. II  
_They Fall in Love_

The cast and crew gathered in the trailers for a quick informal wrap party. The formal wrap party would be held back in L.A. in a few weeks. They stayed until their permit expired and they need to haul everything out of there. Everyone said their 'good-byes' and the west coast crew took off quickly, trying to get home before the storm trapped them.

By the time Ronan got back to the brownstone, he was officially in a damn good mood. He had a week before he’d needed to be back in L.A. to work with Anna on post-production and it looked like he had a few snow days ahead of him. 

Finn dropped him off and, after a brief argument on whether he should stay in town, just in case Ronan needed him, Ronan won and Finn headed home to the Barns. Not feeling the least bit tired, Ronan unpacked the groceries Finn had gotten and headed straight to the basement, where he knew he’d find Noah waiting for him for a Mario Kart marathon. Ronan lasted a few hours before he felt fatigue tugging at him. He left Noah to play Skyrim and headed to his bedroom. First, checking outside. The snow had already started piling up. He worried about Adam for a moment, until he saw Adam's coat and hat hanging by the door. On the third floor, he heard the shower running in their shared bathroom.

Ronan wanted to see Adam, but he didn't want to be clingy. He knew Adam was aware that his feelings were further along than Adam's. He didn't want to scare him away. He decided on leaving the door open. If Adam wanted to see him, he thought it'd be an obvious open invitation. 

He toed-off his boots and propped a pillow up against the headboard. Trying to play it cool, he rested his back against the pillow, bent one leg at the knee and put his headphones in, turning on the music the way he liked it – loud. He wanted to look busy, so he texted his sponsor Jack. Jack was his second sponsor. The first had decided that he needed to focus on his own sobriety. At the time, Ronan had taken it personally, but now, further into his own sobriety, he understood. And, honestly, he felt more connected to Jack, who was gay and a retired stuntman. 

_'Checking in so you don't send the calvary after me. Still sober.'_

Within a minute, Ronan saw the three dots appear.

_'Still an asshole?'_

_'Of course. I wouldn't want to disappoint anyone.'_

_'Everything good?'_

_'Some, yeah.'_

_'What's not?'_

_'A kid in my meeting isn't sober anymore.'_

_'Were you close?'_

_'We talked. I'm okay.'_

Ronan caught movement at the edge of his vision. He looked up. Adam stood in the doorway, wearing gray sweatpants and the same Harvard sweatshirt that he'd worn that first night Ronan had met him. It was so faded that the 'd' was almost gone. A few wisps of his damp hair fell across his forehead, almost skimming his eyelashes. The normally clean-shaven Adam looked interesting and new with a few days' worth of stubble that was a shade darker than the hair on his head.

It took longer than it probably should have until it registered in Ronan's brain that Adam's mouth was moving. Ronan pulled the earbuds from his ears, but his fingers fumbled and they dropped, one hit the bed and rolled onto the floor. Reacting, he swung his legs around and bent down to pick it up and knocked the other one off the bed. So, much for playing it cool. Adam picked up one and Ronan the other. 

Adam dropped the earbud in Ronan's open palm. "Thanks," Ronan said as squeezed Adam's hand before he could pull it away. "What the hell?" 

Ronan inspected Adam's hand. He pulled it back. "They get like this in the winter." He rubbed both hands against his sweatpants. "And I just got out of the shower, so they're worse."

"Jesus Christ." Ronan pulled Adam down on the bed by his wrist. "Ever hear of moisturizer?" He rummaged around in his nightstand for his favorite balm. 

"I have some in my room," Adam said. "You don't have to…" 

Ronan ignored him and scooped out a glob onto his index and middle fingers and grabbed Adam's left hand. "But this is some Hollywood grade A premium blend shit."

It took a beat, but Adam chuckled. "They make special hand moisturizers for the rich and famous and keep it a secret from the rest of the peons?"

"You're getting it now, Parrish."

Ronan had started to rub in the balm as they'd bantered back and forth. He attempted to make small talk, hoping to keep Adam distracted and relaxed. "Your work problem get sorted out?"

"I've isolated the flaw in the calculations," Adam said. "It'll take several days to recompile everything, but I'm feeling confident."

"Fucking ace."

Adam smiled. "Filming wrapped up okay?"

"Yeah. Crew bolted back to the west coast."

Silence followed. Adam watched their hands, his brow tense, his eyes a familiar scrutinizing and examining. He looked tired with gray circles under his eyes and his left eyelid closed slightly more than the other, a tell that Ronan had noticed while they were at the Barns after Christmas.

Ronan had never given a hand massage before, but he'd received them from professionals on set. He tried to copy what they'd done. Long, strong strokes with his thumb, up and down every finger, sliding over the peeling and cracked skin. Pressing his thumb into the pads on the palm. He felt the dry skin sucking up the healing balm. He put more on his fingers and started on the back of Adam's hand, rubbing his thumb in circles, over the knuckles and down to the wrist. 

Adam made a small, pleasant noise of contentment and then coughed. "I can do this myself," he said in a nervous, staticky laugh.

"I know you can." Ronan eyes settled on Adam's face. Adam raised his eyes to look back. "I want to do this."

"Okay," Adam said softly, averting his eyes again.

Ronan switched to Adam's other hand. Studying it while he rubbed the moisturizer into the skin, he mapped out the veins on the back of his hand and the lines etched into his palm, memorizing the thickness of his knuckles and where every callus was, every mole and freckle. The tips of his fingernails curved only slightly at the ends and were trimmed as short as they could go, with white half-moons above the cuticles. 

In the quiet that had settled around them, Ronan could hear Adam breathing softly. The calculating look was gone, now he looked unsure and slightly surprised, like he couldn't understand why Ronan would want to do this. 

And Ronan had been doing this way longer than was necessary. 

He let go of Adam's hand and screwed the lid back on the tin. "You can keep this. I've got another one." When he looked up, Adam kissed him. If this was Adam's way of saying "thank you," Ronan was not complaining. 

Soon they were lying across the bed, both on their sides, with Adam's leg between Ronan's thigh and the fingers of Ronan's free hand wrapped around Adam's hair, still damp and smelling slightly of peppermint. 

Ronan moved his lips to Adam's ear, only to feel the harsh, sexy rub of Adam's stubble against his own. Ronan felt it more than he heard it, Adam suppressing a yawn, which made Ronan yawn, without suppressing it so much.

Adam rolled over his back. "Like an old married couple," he said, laughing. 

If Ronan's heart could make a sound, it would've squeaked. He rolled over on his back too. Adam rolled back on his side and threw an arm over Ronan's stomach. Ronan could see out the window that the snowstorm had really picked up. It looked like a whiteout outside. He twisted his neck to look at Adam, whose eyes were closed. Taking the opportunity to stare without being noticed, Ronan studied Adam's face. His slim nose couldn't be called crooked, there was still something slightly off about it though. Something at the bridge. Ronan hadn't noticed that before or that he had attached earlobes or that he had a very tiny scar at the corner of his mouth.

Adam's breathing had slowed. He'd fallen asleep. Ronan rolled his head back, threw an arm up over his head, and closed his eyes and let himself slip into the feel of this all. The stillness that the snow had brought to the usually vibrating city seeped into the room. He usually needed noise, very loud, pounding, deafening noise to drown out his thoughts for him to sleep. Now, he had the clicking noise of the radiator, the dull tapping of the icy snow on the window, and the steady whisper of Adam's breathing next to him and that was enough. He fell asleep like that, his feet dangling off the side of the bed and the weight of Adam's arm holding him down.

He woke up sometime later and the first thing he realized was Adam's arm was no longer across him. Instead, Adam, who was still on his side, had snuggled in closer, pressing up against Ronan's side, with his forehead resting on his shoulder. Ronan really, really wanted to stay there and enjoy the feeling. He also really, really, _really_ had to pee. He got up slow and easy to go to the bathroom, hoping not to wake Adam. Adam only moved his arm. But when Adam got back to the room, Adam was up and out of bed, yawning and stretching his back so that his Harvard sweatshirt rode up, exposing very little but enough skin and a glimpse of that wonderful trail of hair below his belly button to make Ronan's pulse quicken.

"Hey," he said. "How long were we asleep?"

"Few hours. It's after six." Not wanting to make any assumptions on how physical he could be, he walked in, stopping a few feet away from Adam, but, to his surprise, Adam reached out, grabbing his hips and tugging him towards him and kissing him, closed mouth and delicate. 

"You brushed your teeth," Adam said. 

"You need to," Ronan replied. 

"Fuck off, Lynch," Adam teased as he let go of Ronan and headed out the door. 

Ronan grabbed his phone and followed. "Going to make something to eat. Fucking famished." Before Ronan could ask if Adam wanted something, Adam, as he was closing the bathroom door, said, "I'll be right down when I'm done."

As Ronan reached the second-floor landing, he heard Noah call from inside his bedroom, "I'll take mine in my room! Thanks, Ronan, you're a peach!"

"If you want it in your room, you'll come downstairs and carry it up there yourself, shit-brain!"

By the time Adam made his way downstairs, Ronan had the soup on and had started to spread butter on the bread. 

"Wow," Adam said. "There has to be six inches or so out there already and it's still coming down."

"We're properly snowed-in."

Adam sat at the island, and Ronan, who was glad Adam hadn't shaved, smiled at him. 

Smiling in a teasing way, Adam said, "You know, if you'd smiled like that at me the first night we met, I might not have been so upset." 

Ronan tried to stop smiling, but he couldn't. He added in an eyeroll to keep up some sort of his pretense that he was still cool. "Maybe, I don't show that smile to just anyone."

"Good," Adam said. 

Ronan felt like maybe he was blushing, so he turned around to stir the soup and spare himself from revealing just how vulnerable Adam made him feel. 

"What are you making anyway?" 

"Grilled cheese with tomato soup." 

"Isn't that something little kids eat?"

"It's comfort food! And," Ronan waved a piece of American cheese at Adam, "before I got here you were eating cold Poptarts and cold fried rice out of paper containers."

"Not true. I microwaved the fried rice."

A thought suddenly occurred to Ronan. Why it was comfort food to him. Because on cold winter days, like today, he'd run to his mother for warmth and she'd warm him with hugs and food like this. But Adam's mother wasn't a mother to run _to_; she was the sort of mother to run away _from_.

Ronan put an extra slice of cheese on Adam's sandwich.

Noah showed up the moment Ronan had finished scooping the soup into large soup mugs. Humming _Winter Wonderland_, Noah grabbed his food, pinched Ronan's ass, and marched back upstairs, changing the humming to full blown singing before he reached his bedroom.

Ronan sat next to Adam while they ate. Adam, purposefully, pressed his knee against Ronan's. It felt like something had changed between them suddenly. It felt like Adam had opened up to him a little bit more. Ronan pressed back. 

After Adam saw Ronan dip his sandwich into the soup, he copied him. Ronan watched him as he did it now before every bite. Ronan finished first and checked his phone. Jack had texted back reminding Ronan to call him soon. Declan had texted congratulating him on wrapping up filming. Matthew had sent a string of texts about the snow and photos of the snow. He'd put a ruler out in the snow and was sending Ronan a photo of it every time the snow had risen another inch. 

He showed the last photo to Adam, who said, "Wow. Nine inches."

"That's what he said," Ronan said dryly. 

Shaking his head, Adam groaned. Ronan reached over, grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. The angle was uncomfortable. Ronan slid off the stool. Adam worked out what he was doing and spun around. Between Adam's legs was much better. He held Adam's face in his hand, rubbing his thumbs along his stubble-rough cheeks. Adam kept his hands on Ronan's hips, flexing and unflexing his fingers. 

Ronan pulled away, only slightly, and Adam followed him, locking onto his mouth again. _Oh, yeah._ Something had changed. 

"Hey," Ronan said softly against Adam's lips, "what do you want to do now?"

"This," Adam answered. "More of this."

"Upstairs."

Back in Ronan's room, they laid side-by-side again, this time vertical, heads propped up on pillows, legs intertwined. Adam's warm, softer than it was a few hours ago, hand was up the back of Ronan's t-shirt, his fingers idly gliding along his spine. His own fingers twirled the hair at the nape of Adam's neck. He was hard and so was Adam, but their kisses and their touches, though passionate, weren't about getting off. Ronan had never experienced anything like this – kissing someone just for the pure joy of being close and intimate with them. It made him feel giddy. Adam's lips trailed down his jawline to his ear, giving Ronan the opportunity to speak. "I feel like a teenager, except I never did anything like this then. How 'bout you?"

Adam bent his elbow into the pillow and rested his head in his hand. "I went to Georgetown Prep. What do you think?"

Ronan looked up at him and, for no real reason, his stomach did a flip-flop. "That it was filled with a bunch of rich, conservative assholes trying to impress Daddy, just like at Aglionby."

"Exactly. I wasn't exactly shouting my bisexuality from the rooftops."

"What about the summer camps?"

"I didn't fare much better there. My first kiss was Brittani Daniels at a bonfire party. It was a complete and utter disaster." He closed his eyes and shook his head. "I had no idea what I was doing. And she had made me this rope bracelet, and…" He put his hand over his eyes. "And I got it stuck in her hair." He uncovered his eyes. "Her friend had to cut the bracelet off me to unlatch us and then she had to cut her hair to get the bracelet out of it. I was not upset it was the _farewell_ party and never saw her again."

"Parrish, you fucking asshole, that's actually the most awkward and wholesome goddamn story I've ever heard."

Adam chuckled. He'd let his head fall back to the pillow again. "What about your first kiss?"

"I don't remember it."

Ronan watched Adam's face as he quickly worked it out that Ronan's first kiss was also the first time that he'd had sex. He braced himself for pity. 

Adam grabbed his hand and intertwined their fingers between their chests. "Convenient, Lynch," he said though his eyes were caring, they weren't judging. 

"Does it matter that I'm a high school dropout?" Ronan blurted out, surprising himself that he had the guts to ask it.

"In what context?"

"What do you mean in what context?"

"I mean in what context does it matter? It certainly doesn't matter in the context of our relationship, but it would matter say if you wanted to get into medical school."

"You're a real pain in the ass, Parrish." Ronan leaned forward, across the pillow, and kissed him, thinking _'our relationship'_. "Do you know that?"

"I do." Adam kissed him. "Does it matter to you?"

"No, not really."

"Not really? Then it does."

"Like it doesn't matter _now_. I don't think I need to go get my GED or anything. But I think it was another one of my crappy decisions that I made back then and, had I not been a little asshole, I might've not dropped out."

"My therapist would tell you that what matters is now, not then."

"Ah. Therapists."

"Yes. Therapists."

"My therapist tells me that I have to stop only living in the now and start believing in a future. Now was never my problem. I wanted a drink – I drank. I wanted a new car – I bought it. I wanted sex – I had sex. I wanted to punch someone – I – well you get the idea. The only thing that mattered was the _now_. And dammit, right now, my arm is the fuck asleep." 

Ronan rolled over onto his back and shook out his arm. 

"Mine too." Adam laughed as he did the same. "So, what does the future look like for Ronan Lynch?"

"Getting the movie through post-production and then finding a distributor. Working on renovating the Barns to make it a workable farm again."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Nothing big. Animals only. Start with some cows, chickens, and, maybe, some sheep."

"A commercial farm then to turn a profit."

"I don't give a fuck about making more money. I want to give people jobs. I want to make it a farm to food bank. Though, Declan says it should be a supplier to at least a few businesses for some income and for some tax shit that I don't understand. I'll leave that up to the business manager that I hire."

"That sounds amazing, Ronan." Ronan looked at Adam, who was looking back at him, with a small smile and adoring eyes, making Ronan feel worth knowing. "What else? At the Barns you mentioned writing and painting."

"Yeah. Not sure exactly what, but I'll work that out." 

Adam chuckled to himself. 

"What?" Ronan asked.

"That's my problem. I can't just let things work out. My future had to be planned down to the last detail. I couldn't live in the present. Everything I did had to be part of the long-term plan. Even things that normal people do for fun, like eating or like sex, I only did them because they were maintenance on my body and would help me perform better when doing the quantitative tasks that led me to my goals. I couldn't do things just for the pure enjoyment of them."

"And now?"

"I worked hard at achieving my goal of not only working towards achieving my goals." They both laughed. "Seriously though, I am better. I do things now that I enjoy, like reading that isn't academic or hanging out with Blue, Gansey, and Noah, or making-out with a really hot and _amazing_ guy, on his bed, in the middle of a blizzard. Though, this is new."

"Good new?"

"Yeah, really good new."

Ronan's giddiness returned and it took all of his willpower to remain cool. "So, this isn't some mission to steal my DNA and clone me in that secret lab of yours?"

"Oh, so now it's DNA cloning. You've given up on aliens and killer robots."

"Of course. Aliens and killer robots were a joke." Ronan rolled over and placed himself over Adam, his palms flat next to Adam's head, not touching him. "_Everyone_ knows that secret labs are for DNA cloning, Parrish. And who wouldn't want to clone this?" Ronan looked down at himself and back up at Adam. "You said it – I'm hot _and_ amazing."

Adam rolled his eyes, but he still surged up to meet Ronan's mouth, kissing him, urgently, his hand going to the back of Ronan's neck and pulling him down. They didn't stop kissing until Adam pulled Ronan's shirt over his head, then his own. And they kissed like that, rolling back and forth on the bed, their legs sliding up and down each other's, their hands touching every bit of bare skin they could find. 

Eventually, when their hunger and need grew greater than how far they wanted to go, Ronan broke away, panting and suggesting a break. "How about we cool off with some hot chocolate?"

"Cool off with hot chocolate? That doesn't sound like cooling off."

"I bought tiny marshmallows."

"Oh, well, if you have tiny marshmallows. Who am I to resist?"

Ronan made the hot chocolate and they took it into the living room, where Adam, his hair adorably disheveled from Ronan's hands, opened the blinds on the windows. They settled together on the sofa, Adam nestled in between Ronan's legs, snuggling with a thick, knitted midnight blue throw on top of them. They sipped their hot chocolate and watched the snow fall.

Adam raised his mug. "Here's to you wrapping up shooting today." He clinked his mug against Ronan's. "Congratulations, Ronan."

One thousand and sixty-three days ago, Ronan had woken up at Kavinksy's mansion, after several days and nights of hard, unrelenting partying, face and body bruised from repeatedly falling down, fist-fights, and rough sex with Kavinsky and whomever else was still passed out in the bedroom. The house had been filled with people, most passed out, all strangers. In the kitchen, he'd found a young guy, looking confused and frightened, wearing only a small towel around his waist. "I don't know where my clothes are. I don't how I got here," he'd said. Ronan had nodded. "I don't know how I got here either." Ronan had gotten him one of his t-shirts and a pair of running pants. After Ronan'd got him into an Uber, he started to walk up and down the winding roads and hills of Hollywood. Two hours later, he'd looked at his phone and read a text from Matthew, "Today's Mom's birthday."

He'd sat down on bench at a bus stop and called Finn. "I need to go to rehab. And not one of those fucking pretentious twenty-five thousand dollar a night places where they do yoga and shit and everyone is just going to kiss my rich, lily-white ass. A real fucking rehab, Finn. Fly me the fuck back to the east coast, if you have to, I don't care. I need a place, with people, who aren't going to put up with my bullshit. Because I can't put up with my bullshit anymore. I need help..." 

He'd hung up and sat on that bench, waiting for Finn and inhaling the fumes of the cars going by, reminding him of drag racing on hot summer nights in Virginia. He’d wanted to be home so bad in that moment, it’d made him physically retch from the pain. He’d closed his eyes, while he threw up in the gutter, and, for the first time, in a long time, he'd prayed. 

He'd prayed that he had the strength to get himself out of the hell he'd put himself in. 

He'd prayed that he would never wake up again like he had that morning. 

He'd prayed that he would find faith in himself again.

"Yeah, Adam. Today was a really good day."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next part it's all Adam's pov! The boy is so in love and he doesn't know it yet!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for saying that this would be the last part of Act II. I had originally scraped this part off my outline, but when I tried to move the story without it, I found it was missing something. So, I added it back in.

A Love Story in Three Acts  
Act. II  
_They Fall in Love_

The next morning, Adam woke up in his bed still wrapped up in the blanket of blissful contentment that he'd fallen asleep in. Yesterday, he'd not only been trapped inside with Ronan, but he'd felt like they'd been trapped in _time_ as well. The entire day had felt like he'd only ever existed in that exact moment. He'd only wanted to know and feel what was happening as it happened. He'd never felt so free in his life, and it had allowed him to open himself up _to_ Ronan and _for_ Ronan. 

Outside, the city had started to wake-up and dig out. The sound of plows and shovels grating across roads and sidewalks breached the quiet and feeling of solitude, pulling Adam back into the real world. His mind started to drift towards his research and work, but he yanked it back to his bedroom and his bed and Ronan, whose body felt warm and strong next to him.

Adam rolled over. Ronan faced the opposite way, giving Adam a full view of his bare back and his tattoo. Adam studied it, following the intricate lines and designs with his eyes, until he'd get lost and have to start over again. He finally spotted a pattern, and he couldn't resist reaching out to trace his finger along it.

Ronan yawned. "Like what you see?" he teased. 

"Are these the roads that lead to the Barns?"

"Can't get anything by you, Parrish."

"When did you get it?" 

"Started it the day I turned eighteen. Had to sit for it twice."

"Did you draw it yourself?"

"Yeah."

"Did you dream it first?"

"Most of it."

"It's beautiful," Adam said, slightly embarrassed by the adoration he heard in his voice. 

Ronan flipped around. Adam's bed creaked and groaned from his weight. They had ended up here, in Adam's room this time, simply because it was the closest to the top of the stairs. Though, before they had fallen asleep, Ronan had gone to his room for his pillow.

"I wasn't done looking at it," Adam said.

Ronan's eyes and fingers roamed over Adam's face, saying, _'But I want to look at you.'_ Adam had gotten good at reading Ronan's non-verbal language. 

Internally, he had to struggle not to divert his eyes from Ronan's. Ronan was so free with his physical affections and there was the way that he looked at Adam, like Adam was beautiful. It all made Adam's insides boil and his head spin. It was confusing, utterly terrifying, and _addicting_. 

Adam leaned in and kissed along Ronan's jaw starting near his ear, down to his chin. Like he had done on Ronan's back, he trailed his index finger along the other side of Ronan's jaw. His lips and finger met at the same time at Ronan's mouth. He kissed the corner of it, touching it gently with the tip of his tongue, while his finger slid over his bottom lip. 

"You…" Ronan growled and manhandled Adam over onto his back. Hovering over him, he dropped his forehead onto Adam's. 

"Yeah?" Adam said playfully. He pushed all of his fingers under the waist of Ronan's jeans. 

Adam suspected that Ronan had kept jeans on to somewhat contain his erection. Part of Adam, the part that was aching to get his hands-on Ronan's cock, was glad that he'd done that. Adam had been knocked dizzy when he first felt Ronan's erection pressing into his thigh. He could easily and agonizingly imagine what the outline of it would look and feel like in only the loose, thin confines of sweatpants. 

"You're going to fuckin' kill me," Ronan said as he climbed off him so fast that Adam didn't have a chance to respond. He stood next to the bed, looking down at Adam and biting his bottom lip hard. Adam lost his breath. Ronan was magnificent, standing there shirtless and barefoot, wearing only jeans, his leather wristband, and his bold erection. 

_We're going to kill each other and die here together. And I'm okay with that._

Shaking his head, Ronan ran his hand over his skull, mouthing, _'Fuck,'_ towards the ceiling. "Shower," he grumbled and left Adam lying there with his own erection and desires that were beating on his insides, begging to be let out. Adam grabbed Ronan's pillow, shoved his face into it, and screamed. 

The water in the bathroom started to run. Adam got up and headed downstairs to pee and for coffee. Right as the coffee started filling the pot, Ronan showed up, completely dressed in a fresh pair of black jeans, a long-sleeved black thermal shirt, and even his combat boots. Adam realized that this was Ronan's armor, along with the back-the-fuck off expression he was now wearing: a tight, twitching jaw, a scowl, and arrogant eyes. 

Adam knew he couldn't untangle whatever dark thoughts had infected Ronan's mind while he was in the shower. Ronan was an adult. Adam would listen, if Ronan asked him to, until then, life went on, even when Ronan Lynch had worked himself into a funk.

"Coffee?" Adam asked.

Ronan grunted. He pulled out a box of cereal and waved it towards Adam. Adam nodded. Ronan shoved the box under his arm to grab the milk out of the fridge, while Adam grabbed bowls and spoons. 

Noah came in, wearing flannel pajamas in a Christmas pattern, and hopped up on the island. "What are you cooking for us today, Ronan?" 

Ronan snatched another bowl from the cabinet and dropped it next to Noah. Adam had seen Noah poke at a Ronan mood, pushing at Ronan's buttons like a hyperactive kid in an elevator. But today he shrugged and left it alone.

They were all on their second bowls of cereal when the front door opened and closed, and the sounds of feet stomping on the floor and Blue laughing followed. 

Blue and Gansey came into the kitchen with Lloyd. 

"Hey, Lloyd," Noah said. "What made you brave vast lands of snow and ice to grace us with your presence?"

"I came to ensure that my commander-in-chief has everything that he needs."

"Fucking bullshit, Lloyd" Ronan said. "You don't have anything to eat at your place."

Lloyd shrugged, obviously called out accurately. "Yeah. I don't have anything to eat. And I'm bored. So, so, _so_ fucking bored."

Adam got Lloyd a bowl and grabbed more cereal. 

"You're not cooking?" Gansey asked, clapping Ronan on the shoulder.

"I'm not everyone's personal chef," Ronan snapped. 

"I can cook," Lloyd interjected, pouring the cereal into his bowl. "But some mornings are just a cereal kind of morning."

"Anyone can cook," Blue pointed out. "It's whether or not they can cook _well_."

"Disagree," Adam said. "I'm not sure if Gansey even knows how to turn on the stove."

Gansey looked affronted. "What? I know how to – well, maybe not this particular stove, but I've turned on a stove before."

The morning went on like this, friendly joking and telling more stories. Ronan's mood seemed to lift a little. Blue talked Gansey, Adam, and Lloyd into a game of Scrabble, while Ronan and Noah went downstairs for Call of Duty. The game broke up for a while after Lloyd got a call, and he yelled down to Ronan "answer your phone!"

Ronan took the call in the hall, pacing and shouting out a series of creative and remarkable curses at times. 

"It's Anna," Lloyd said, directing it to Adam specifically. "They lost their sound editor." 

It quieted in the hall. Adam hadn't heard Ronan's footsteps on the stairs and, from the angle he was sitting, he would've seen him go back downstairs. After his turn, he stood and checked the hall. He found Ronan sitting on the stairs with his head in his hands.

Adam put a foot on the bottom step and leaned against the railing. "That didn't sound good."

Ronan looked up. "It's not."

"It won't shut everything down, will it?"

"Fuck, no. It's not that dire. It's a major pain in the ass though."

"What do you have to do to find another?"

"Fly back earlier to L.A. for one."

"When?"

"Not sure. Next few days though."

"How long will you be gone?" Adam asked.

"Two weeks. Got some other crap to do too. I have to be back at the Barns on the thirtieth."

"Really? I'm leaving on that day for a conference in London." 

"Any chance you could fly to L.A. for a few days?" Ronan asked without hesitation.

"I can't," Adam said surprised at how disappointed that made him feel. "I'm presenting for five days straight. I have to prepare my slides and handouts. Coordinate my topics with the rest of the team. And I still have to finish my simulations to present those findings." 

Immediately, Adam knew that he should reciprocate the invitation. Other people often brought a significant other or friend to accompany them on a business trip, especially one in an interesting destination. He'd never imagined that he would though. Could he imagine it now - Ronan with him in London? Could Ronan be seen out in public there or would he have to hide away in the hotel room? Did Adam want to be seen out in public with Ronan and take the chance of being photographed? Would he have time to spend with him?

The answer to the first question was 'yes', but –

"Jesus Christ, Adam, chill the fuck out. I can hear the wheels grinding in your head."

"Sorry, I –"

"I get it."

"No. It's not. I… I want to see you. It's just –"

"I said _'I get it.'_ You made yourself clear about the whole public celebrity thing. And I've got responsibilities and shit to take care of here." 

"So, between your trip and mine, it'll be almost month before we see each other."

"I'm going to Declan's today," Ronan said, throwing the topic in a new direction. 

"Alright…"

"To stay there until I leave."

"Oh." That wasn't what Adam had expected to hear. "Why? Are you angry -"

"Look. We made this really fucking awkward, Parrish. Shit – I mean - what are we going to do now – sleep together every night? Kiss goodnight in front of the bathroom? We're not there yet – _right_?"

Ah. Maybe this had been the reason for Ronan's foul mood earlier. Did he think that he'd pushed Adam too far? Did he think that Adam would regret the time they'd spent together? 

Because none of that was true and Adam needed Ronan to know that, he reached for Ronan's wristbands and rubbed his thumb over them. "Yeah maybe you're right." He bent his knee to the step and leaned down, whispering in Ronan's ear, "But it was totally worth it."

Ronan titled his head against Adam's. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Ronan stood and pulled Adam with him. He smiled, but it looked painful. Adam thought maybe it was, maybe hope still hurt Ronan a little. 

"I want to take you on a date," Ronan said.

"A date?"

"Yes. A date."

Adam frowned. "Wasn't New Year's Eve a date?"

"When the fuck did I say it wasn't? People who date - _date_. So, we date."

Adam laughed, shaking his head. "Okay. So we date." 

"I know – nothing public. Trust me?" Ronan asked.

"Sure."

"I know tomorrow you're going to be all wrapped up and freaking out about your nerdy shit. Thursday then?"

Adam nodded. "Thursday."

~ ~ ~ 

Like Ronan had predicted, Adam worked non-stop all day on Wednesday. The university reopened, and he spent the entire morning dealing with undergrads and his professors, attempting to get them back into their regular routine. In the afternoon, he locked himself away in Blue's office to work on correlating the data from the simulations. And, finally, around ten, he dragged himself home.

The house, especially the third floor, seemed emptier without Ronan. Which was ridiculous, he told himself. There was no logical reason for him to feel that way. There had been times when he'd gone days without seeing Ronan. 

In his room, he opened his nightstand for the balm that Ronan had left him. Next to the balm were his tarot cards. He'd forgotten about the last reading he'd done. The Hanged Man had told him that an obstacle would put things on hold. That it would be a stepping stone to a new life. When the simulations had failed and forced him to drop everything to work on them, he'd assumed that was the card's prediction. 

Now, he wondered if the obstacle had been the snowstorm forced on him to begin a new path. He didn't know. He did know one thing. His affectionate feelings for Ronan had grown much more profound over the last few days. So much so that he didn't know how they were all going to fit inside of him.

By morning, he decided that maybe this pending time apart was the best for them. They needed to cool off a bit. He needed to think, but it was hard to think straight when thoughts of Ronan lingered constantly along the edges of his mind. Like they did the entire day while he waited to hear when and where to meet him for their date.

Ronan texted him at noon, _'Date still on. Working out details.'_ He didn't hear from him again until close to five, directing him to be at an address near Georgetown park at seven. A few minutes later, another text came through, '_If seven works for you.'_

Adam texted back that seven was okay. He didn't need to google the address. It was a hotel. He knew it from attending small functions with professors and alumni from the university in the lobby bar or their event room. The excitement he had felt for the date deflated slightly. The hotel had a five-star rating and five hundred dollars or more a night rooms. It reeked of influence, power, and money, everything that made Adam feel smaller.

The venue for the date hadn't seemed like Ronan's style at all. Adam remembered Ronan at the Barns, looking content surrounded by its unpretentious comfort. Perhaps he didn't know Ronan at all. Perhaps the Ronan he'd met that first night, the one he'd assumed threw around his power and money, was the real Ronan after all. This was exactly why he'd kept his feelings reigned in tight and didn't want to rush things.

He buried himself in his data for the next hour or so and left for the hotel to get there almost exactly at seven. Ronan had instructed him to go to the front desk, give them his name, and tell them that he was there to see Patrick Kavanaugh. There a hotel clerk gave him a keycard and instructed him to an elevator away from the normal bank of elevators. "Put the keycard in the slot and it'll take you right up to the suite," she told him.

Inside the elevator was a dark red plush velvet bench. Adam saw himself in the mirror: face too thin, cheekbones too high, hair bleak like the dirty, dusty floors of a Virginia trailer park. He ignored the mirror by busying himself taking off his coat. The elevator door opened, not to a foyer, but directly into the living room area of a huge suite, where Ronan lounged on a plush, deep gray sectional sofa reading his tablet. In the corner of the room, a fire burned in a gas fireplace. 

"Hey, Parrish." He stood up, placing his bare feet on a thick white shag rug. "Right on time. Thought we could order food first." He reached down and grabbed a menu. "It'll take a while."

"Quite the place," Adam said. He dropped his laptop bag on the floor next to the coffee table and draped his coat over the arm of a chair. 

Across the open space of the room, behind the rich, dark wood dining room table, were tall architectural windows with half radius tops. Adam walked towards them. He took the menu out of Ronan's hand as he walked past him. 

"Did you send your list of demands ahead before you got here?" Adam asked, looking out the window at Georgetown park and the lights of the city shining on the Potomac. He could see a faint image of Ronan in the pane of the glass. He'd crossed his arms over his chest. Adam added, "Isn't that what celebrities do?"

"Only _demand_ I ever have is to remove all liquor from the room." 

Adam flinched. 

"I'm sorry if this offends your minimalistic principles, but it was this, Declan's basement, or eating room service on a double bed in a single room at the Hilton."

"I wouldn't have minded either of those things."

"Well, I fucking do mind," Ronan snapped, stepping up to the dining room table. "This is my date too, you know. And I didn't want a date in my brother's basement or on another _bed_."

Adam couldn't argue with that last part. For two people, trying really hard not to have sex, they certainly did spend an awful lot of time on beds.

"Or maybe…" Ronan continued. Adam stole a quick glance at him. Ronan clutched the back of the dining room chair so hard that his knuckles had turned white. "You would've preferred that I got the fucking fifteen thousand dollar a night room down the street at the Ritz?"

Adam looked at the menu. "I'm paying for dinner."

"Fuck no. I asked you on the date."

"You paid for the room. I'll pay for dinner."

"I said 'no.' It's fucking expensive."

Adam threw the menu on the table. "So, you think I can't afford it?"

"Listen, man, I know you've got issues with rich assholes. And, yeah, I'm an asshole, but it's got nothing to do with me being rich."

"Don't act like you know me, Ronan. You don't."

"The fuck, Parrish!" Ronan banged the chair into the table and began to pace, stomping in a horizontal line back and forth. "I'm working without a goddamn net here. This place isn't my fucking style either. I'd much rather have taken you to the Barns or this great place right off 220 that has amazing pies or even to the theater or a concert, I don't know, fucking, normal ass date stuff. But I didn't want to get hounded by fans and _you_ don't want to be seen in public with me. This was the best idea I could come up with on short notice and with the city still half shut down from the snow! Cut me a fucking break or fucking leave! Because I don't need this shit!"

The rational part of his mind begged for him to stop this, begged him to shut up and get over it and shove the angry, stubborn little boy, with his bad haircut and bruised skin, that thought he wasn't good enough, might never be good enough, back to where he came from.

Because he really didn't want to leave and, at this point, he didn't know who he was even angry with. But it wasn't Ronan.

He picked the menu back up. He looked at it for only a few seconds and lowered it again. 

"I don't want my parents to see me," he blurted out.

Ronan stopped his angry march. 

"My mother spent all day smoking, drinking, and watching television. Soap operas, those horrendous talk shows like Maury and Jerry Springer…." 

Adam tapped the corner of the menu on the table. 

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

"And Hollywood gossip shows. I know - real stereotype. I don't know if she still watches them." 

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

"I don't even know if she's still alive… or him. But, if they are, I don't want her to see me. I don't want either of them to know anything about me. As far as I'm concerned…" 

_Tap. Tap. Tap._ "I want them to think that I dropped off the face of the earth."

Ronan had listened to Adam's confession without moving or making a sound. When Adam was done, Ronan scratched the back of his neck. "I'm not a therapist. But, if I was, I'd say the technical term is that you need some fucking closure here, Parrish."

Despite the uncomfortableness and anger that he still felt, Adam half-laughed. "Sounds about right. Now that you're soon to be unemployed, maybe you should consider entering into the field of psychiatry."

"Nah. Do I look like I head-shrinker to you?" Ronan walked around the other side of the table, closer to Adam. "I made a judgement call here because I wanted privacy, but also something resembling a real date. If you want to go –"

"I don't." Adam dropped the menu on the table. "I'll have the wedge salad – no bacon - and the vegetable risotto."

"Jesus Christ, Adam. Can I fucking kiss you now or what?"

Adam replied by stepping forward and wrapping his arms around Ronan's neck. "I'm –" 

"Don't," Ronan whispered. "We got here. That's all that counts." 

He kissed him with no tongue, only soft lips capturing his gently, while his hand went under Adam's shirt and rubbed a slow circle on his lower back. Ronan touched him with calming affection, with _love_. Adam's body opened up to it, consuming it, letting the warmth of it flow through him to someplace deep inside Adam that was intangible. 

It healed.

It hurt. 

It wasn't enough.

It was too much.

What he thought in that moment was, _'I'm going to miss him so much.'_

What he said was, "We should order that room service. I can't stay late. I have an early morning." 

While they waited for the food, they talked about their upcoming travel plans and their work. Ronan was telling Adam about the sound editors they were considering " when a buzzer sounded. 

"It's signaling someone's coming up on the elevator," Ronan explained.

"That elevator is awkward," Adam said.

"Really fucking awkward," Ronan agreed. 

He asked Adam to get the food, while he went into the bedroom. "Just don't feel like being that famous guy tonight," he said. "There's cash by the door for a tip."

The hotel steward rolled the cart into the dining area and set everything up on the table. Ronan had left three twenties on the table by the door. Adam was glad that he'd stopped by the ATM that morning. He left Ronan's twenties and gave the steward sixty dollars of his own money. It gave him the familiar painful jerk in his stomach to spend money in such an extravagant manner. Quickly, he silently went through various rationalizations until one stuck – sixty dollars wasn't even half of the cost of dinner - and his mind let it go and his body relaxed. 

Before the elevator door closed, the steward thanked him and called him Mr. Kavanagh. 

"I'm famished," Ronan said, coming out of the bedroom, plopping right down at the table, and grabbing the scallops wrapped in bacon that he'd ordered for an appetizer. 

"Why Patrick Kavanagh?" Adam asked as he sat down and started cutting up his wedge salad. 

"He's a famous Irish poet. That was my father's fake name for hotels."

"Do you like his poetry?"

"Nah. Poetry's not my thing."

"But it was your Dad's thing?"

"Not even close. I think he just liked the guy because he was Irish." 

Adam asked Ronan more questions about the post-production of the film. Adam loved learning new things, and Ronan was so passionate about it. As they started on their entrees, Adam asked, "Can you really give it all up?"

He shrugged. "My mom did. She found out she was pregnant while she was filming what would become her last movie. Declan was four." He put his fork down and sat back in his chair. "She was much more talented than my father."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah. She was a real actor. My dad was a celebrity. My mom…" He paused for a beat. Adam felt his grief in that moment. "My mom loved acting. It was being a celebrity that she hated."

"What did she love about acting?"

"The story." Ronan smiled. "She believed in story-telling. She said that stories kept humanity in humans. She said they taught us how to be human. You get it, right? I've seen you with your books."

Adam nodded. "I do."

Ron looked so soft and vulnerable as he spoke about his mother, clearly, he adored her. "She loved being able to tell a good story, in whatever form."

"Is that why she made sure you knew how to paint and write?"

"Yeah. My dad was away a lot filming. Until Aglionby, I had tutors at home. I spent, practically, my whole life at the Barns with my mother. We read, painted, wrote stories, and watched a lot of movies. Acted a lot of them out and plays too. I used to learn speeches from movies that my mom loved, and I'd act them out to here when she put me to bed, like a bedtime story."

"Like what sort of speeches?"

"She loved this one." Ronan stood up. He grabbed a spoon and held it up to his mouth like a microphone. "In less than an hour, aircraft from here will join others from around the world. And you will be launching the largest aerial battle in this history of mankind.

"Mankind -- that word should have new meaning for all of us today. We can't be consumed by our petty differences anymore. We will be united in our common interests.

"Perhaps its fate that today is the 4th of July, and you will once again be fighting for our freedom, not from tyranny, oppression, or persecution -- but from annihilation. We're fighting for our right to live, to exist.

"And should we win the day, the 4th of July will no longer be known as an American holiday, but as the day when the world declared in one voice: We will not go quietly into the night! We will not vanish without a fight! We're going to live on! We're going to survive!

"Today, we celebrate our Independence Day!"

Even though Ronan looked like the least likely person to ever lead anyone into battle, his voice and his expression had taken on the role with a graceful, natural ease. 

_'Hollywood doesn't deserve him.'_

Adam said, "That's great. What is that from?"

Ronan smiled with such fondness that Adam knew immediately that he wasn't being made fun of. "A very popular nineties movie about a global alien invasion, called _Independence Day_. It's no Shakespeare, but –"

"You know Shakespeare too?"

Adam kept thinking he knew Ronan, yet, every time he was with him, he learned something new, something he couldn't have predicted. 

Ronan had been hovering over the chair, ready to sit down, but he sprung back up. This time he moved around the room as if he were delivering the speech to more than just Adam. He used his hands and body to punctuated and emphasize his words. Adam sat there, quiet and still, hypnotized by this magnificent creature before him. 

"This story shall the good man teach his son;

And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,

From this day to the ending of the world,

But we in it shall be remembered —

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;

For he today that sheds his blood with me

Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,

This day shall gentle his condition;

And gentlemen in England now a-bed

Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,

And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks

That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day."

With a slight pink blossoming on his cheeks, Ronan sat down. Adam's reaction must've been visible on his face. He laughed softly, trying to hide his own embarrassment for almost drooling. "Now, that _one_ I know."

"Shut up and eat your risotto before it gets cold." Ronan picked up his knife and fork. "I brought a favorite movie of mine to watch and..." Ronan paused. Adam looked up from his food and at him. Ronan kept eye contact as he finished, "I don't want to keep you too late. Don't want you turning into a pumpkin or anything."

"Do I look like Cinderella to you?"

"No, asshole, you don't," Ronan deadpanned. "And I'm no Prince Charming either."

"Good," Adam said. "Prince Charming's not my type."

"So, you're a 'knight in shining armor on a white horse' type of guy?"

"Nah. Rule followers." Adam liked this. This casual flirting. "It's the cynical, roguish, reluctant heroes with a heart of gold that I'm all in for."

"Well, we're good then. Because I don't own a white horse." 

It felt natural and easy to keep the banter going while they loaded their dirty plates onto the cart and Ronan rolled it into the kitchen area. Adam went into the living area to wait. He looked around and felt even more foolish for his reaction early. The suite wasn't really all that extravagant. He'd been in friend's condos that were much more lavish. Ronan didn't have a place of his own here and this was him pretending for one night that he did, so he could feel normal. Now that Adam was thinking straight, he could see that.

Ronan came in carrying two plates with a piece of pie and a fork on them. 

"Pie," Adam said.

"Yep. Can't get nothing by you."

"Is this pie from that place you mentioned earlier?"

"Again. Right on the money."

Adam sat on the sofa and waited for Ronan to put on the movie before he ate his pie. "What are we watching?" he asked.

"Harvey," Ronan replied. "It's an old black and white, about a man and his pooka."

"His what?"

"Pooka. A six-foot three rabbit that only he can see. Trust me, Parrish. You'll like it."

Mentally, Adam scoffed at the notion. He didn't even know what sort of movies he liked, how could Ronan? An hour and forty minutes and two pieces of pie later, Adam had to admit that Ronan was right. 

"So…" Ronan wriggled his toes against Adam's ankle. They had ended up on opposite sides of the couch, leaning against the arms, with their feet intertwined. Ronan's bare. Adam socked. "Was the rabbit real or not?"

Adam replied with certainty, "Real."

"Yeah? Why?"

"Harvey was real for Elwood. Harvey had his own personality outside of Elwood. Elwood might've created Harvey in his mind, but he brought him out into reality. And, he believed in Harvey so intensely that people around him started to believe too."

"You don't think Elwood was simply a delusional alcoholic?"

"I think Elwood was a beautiful soul, who was probably lonely and scared, and created a friend to help him through all that. You?"

"I think he's a fucking fictional character, Parrish." Ronan smirked, wicked and sharp, deflecting. "You're taking this way too seriously."

Adam nudged Ronan with his foot, laughing, and it turned into a push and shove match with their feet that somehow ended with Ronan half on top of Adam with his tongue in his mouth. It was a tight fit, two grown men on a sofa, but they pressed into each other. As it went on and on, as they both grew warmer, their dicks harder, their faces redder, their feelings more intertwined, somewhere in the back of his mind, Adam knew it was getting too intense, he was getting to close to the edge of the cliff, and he should break this up and leave. But Ronan felt so damn good and he kept making this sound made-up of desire and want that drove Adam crazy. 

Ronan pulled away, panting, he said, "I… This - this is getting too hard."

"Yeah, I know," Adam said. "I can feel it."

Both of them started to laugh. The intense mood broke. They stepped back from the cliff. Ronan rolled off him onto the floor and stood up. He offered Adam his hand to help him up. Adam accepted it. He felt another flare of hot magnetism surge through him, simply from holding Ronan's hand.

"You can stay the night, if you want," Ronan said. 

"No, I can't," Adam said, though there was a big part of him that had a very strong opposing view point regarding his decision. A part of him opposed all of this, having to say good-bye to Ronan, not being able to see him again for weeks. He was getting used to this, used to the new things he learned about Ronan every time he was with him, used to Ronan's faces and his moods, used to Ronan's touch and the sound of his voice, especially when he said his name – not Parrish, but _Adam_ – like it was a prayer. 

Adam still didn't know where he wanted to navigate this relationship. The next several weeks would give him time to think. No one ever thought clearly when they were standing at the edge of a cliff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I'm sure that the next part will be the end of Act II!
> 
> The movie they watch is _[Harvey](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harvey_\(film\))_ starring James Stewart.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it....

A Love Story in Three Acts  
Act. II  
_They Fall in Love_

For the first week, after Ronan had left, Adam buried himself in data and his presentations for the London symposium. The simulations showed he was right back on track and his research could move forward. He wasn't going to be shamed and laughed out of the ecology community. He wasn't a phony.

As the days passed, the stress of his work lessened, giving him more time to think about Ronan. Sometimes, Ronan crept into his thoughts unintentionally. Adam couldn't find a pattern to the triggers, but, one moment he was thinking about molecular genetics and the phenology traits of trees, and the next, something trivial about Ronan would push its way into his thoughts. Like the way Ronan, no matter how much time they'd spent together, still seemed surprised when Adam initiated a kiss. Or how Ronan held him, not just with his arms, but with his whole body. Even when they were standing, Ronan pressed every inch of his body against him that he could. 

At night, in the reflective space between getting into bed and falling asleep, Adam thought a lot about Ronan, replaying their time together in his mind, wondering what Ronan was doing, worrying that Ronan might meet someone in L.A.. Someone without a trunk full of baggage, someone who was _easier_. Because didn't Ronan have enough baggage on his own? Why would he want Adam's piled on top of it? 

Adam hadn't known Ronan long, but he knew that Ronan loved hard. Didn't he deserve someone who understood what it meant to love someone like that? Adam mentioned that to Carrie his therapist during his regular monthly visit.

"You love, Adam," she said. "You love Blue and her family."

"It's different."

"Why do you think it's different?"

"People don't break up with friends."

"Sure, they do," she responded. "All the time. My best friend from college and I had an argument during the planning of her wedding and we haven't spoken in fifteen years."

"Okay. Yeah, but it's still not the same as breaking up with someone romantically."

"It still hurt. I still grieved for her."

"But friends don't break-up because someone cheated or because someone decides to move across the country and the other one doesn't want to go or can't go. Or maybe one person wants kids and the other doesn't. Friends don't fight about money or forgetting anniversaries or – "

Putting her palm up towards him, she stopped him. "I get your point. I believe that friendships are very important and just as important as romantic ones. _But_, if someone is looking for romantic relationship and they find the right partner, there are benefits to that as well. Are you able to think of any?"

She didn't look openly smug, but he knew her. She was proud she'd trapped him here. He decided to be as difficult as he could be. "Sex."

"You can have sex outside of a romantic partnership. You can even have sex with friends. Friends with benefits. I'm certain you're aware of the term. You've used it before."

"Sex on a more regular schedule."

"_Adam_…"

He sighed. "Emotional support. Financial support," he checked them off on his fingers as he went down his list, "physical intimacy without sex, tax breaks, always someone to go places with, someone to share life maintenance tasks with… someone who puts you first…"

"You were about to say something else."

"I wasn't," he said.

She replied, "I think you were. I think you've been working on this list for some time."

"Someone who really knows you."

"Ah. Is that the part that makes you uncomfortable?"

"No." He inhaled on a ten second count and exhaled on a ten second count. "It's the part that terrifies me."

"The only part?"

"No," he said, his voice sounding small. "The part that I have to be all those things to someone else. I don't know if I can."

She remained silent for a moment, letting him collect himself. After he looked back up, she said, "This person seems to think that you can."

Adam half-laughed. "He's as fucked-up as I am."

She didn't look offended by him cursing, but surprised. "But you said he's working on himself as well. Adam, that's a _good_ thing. The two of you would be entering into this with more self-awareness than a lot of people have. Haven't you thought about where you stood on long-term commitments before this?"

He relaxed, sensing this painful discussion about his fears would be over soon. "In the abstract. I figured if someone came along, I'd consider fitting them into my plans."

"Plans? Or your life?"

"I know – I know. Plans aren't the same thing as a life."

"Have you been feeling physically panicked over this?"

Adam thought about it for a moment and surprised himself with the answer. "No. I haven't. I'm feeling a level of anxiety over it, but it doesn't feel unmanageable."

Carrie was really good at what she did, and Adam respected her greatly. She had always been nothing but professional with him. Adam often interpreted compassion as pity and it had ruined his relationships with other therapists, and sometimes even friends, in the past. She knew how to handle him and provide the right balance of clinical mixed with empathy and compassion. 

Now, she looked at him with only empathy and understanding, when she said, with all traces of professionalism stripped from her voice, "This is hard. I _know_. I broke up with my college boyfriend because he wanted to get married right after graduation, and I didn't think that I was ready. For years, I wondered if I'd made the right choice." She sat back in her chair relaxed like they were talking as friends. "I'm married now and happy, and I don't wonder about that anymore. You –"

"Are you absolutely certain you would've been unhappy, if you'd made the other choice and gotten married then?"

"Absolutely certain? No. You can never be absolutely certain about something like that. You're a scientist; you know that you can't even make that hypothesis because it can't be disproved. I made a logical assumption that I wouldn't be happy getting married at that time, I had to live with that."

"But how can someone make a logical assumption about another person's feelings and actions?"

"You can't." She shrugged. "You can make an emotional assumption though. You can trust the other person won't hurt you."

"What if it doesn't work out? What if the relationship ends and you've wasted all that time?"

"Then you do what you have to do – you grieve, you get over it, and you move on. If you're in a relationship that you enjoy, then it's not wasted time. If it's a relationship that's toxic and unhealthy, then you should get out of it, before you do waste too much time."

That night Adam sat in bed trying to read an important research paper, but his mind kept drifting towards his conversation with Carrie. He had to be honest with himself; he trusted Ronan. It was himself that he didn't trust. 

Adam's phone that was charging on nightstand buzzed. It could only be Ronan at this time of night. They hadn't spoken in the eleven days since Ronan had been gone, but they'd exchanged texts. Adam told himself that he had to focus on this paper, because it would surely come up in London, and he shouldn't look at the text until morning. He'd wasted too much time thinking about Ronan Lynch. He told himself this as he rolled over and stretched his hand out for his phone.

Adam looked at a breathtaking photo of the sun fading into the horizon. A sunrise – no – sunset along the Pacific Ocean.

The message along with it read, _'Went for a drive along the coast. You should see this someday.'_

_'He thought of me when he took this.'_ That thought made Adam feel like he was blushing all over his body. He talked himself out of that way of thinking. It was dangerous to presume to know what Ronan was thinking, being vain enough to think Ronan thought about him that much.

He struggled with his response. _'Amazing. I'd like to see that someday with you.'_ He backspaced, removing the last sentence. He replaced it with, _'So LA isn't all bad?'_ But he didn't hit send right away, questioning if that would make him look needy or would it be sending Ronan the wrong message. 

_'It's a text. That's all. You've been way more intimate with Ronan. This isn't a big deal.'_

He hit send.

Within a few minutes, Ronan responded with more photos taken at the beach: a colony of sea lions, a crab at the water's edge, waves crashing off a jetty, and surfers, some in the water and a few walking away from it carrying their surfboards. 

_'Do you surf?'_ Adam asked. He already knew the answer to that question; he was interested in hearing Ronan's answer.

_'Can't surf in combat boots. Everyone knows that.'_ A triple 'rolling eyes' emojis ended the text.

Adam laughed, and, suddenly, he realized that it would be another two weeks before he saw Ronan again.

Without giving it any thought, he texted, _'Free to facetime?'_

A few seconds later, Adam's iPad and phone alerted him that Ronan wanted to facetime. He answered on his iPad that was propped up against his bent knees.

"Hey," Adam said. "Are you wearing a tuxedo?"

Looking casual and indifferent, Ronan looked down at himself. "This old thing? This is how the rich and famous lounge around here in Hollywood."

Adam laughed. He saw himself in the small frame in the corner and quickly adjusted the iPad for a better angle that didn't make him look like a long-faced alien. Ronan, of course, looked utterly perfect. He'd gotten rid of the extra growth of hair on his head and face that he'd accumulated for the movie, making him look like the Ronan that Adam had first met.

He didn't realize until he saw Ronan how much he'd missed his face, with all its dramatic expressions. He found so much about his face fascinating, like his pale blue eyes that would blend into blah against his pale skin, if it weren't for his lush, long black lashes. He, especially, appreciated his long, curved Roman nose. He thought it made Ronan look bold and powerful. 

Ronan had told him that, early on in his career, his manager had suggested he have his nose fixed. 

_'What? That's ridiculous,' Adam said. 'There's nothing wrong with your nose. What did you say?'_

_Ronan snorted. 'Pushed him up against the wall and told him, if he ever mentions it again, I'll give him a new nose for free.'_

Adam controlled himself and didn't ask Ronan to pan back so that he could see all of him in the tux. 

"Well, for loungewear, you look great," he said instead. 

"I have a _thing_ tonight," Ronan said. "So, miss me, Parrish? Been living off Poptarts and cold curry since I've been gone?"

"Something like that."

A few beats of awkward silence followed. Then they both spoke at the same time, "So… you found your –" "How's your resear –" "You go –" "Um, no - okay."

Ronan asked, "Research work going okay?"

"Yeah," Adam said, nodding. "Better than ok. I've decided to submit my hypothesis in London next week."

"What's your hypothesis?" 

"That we can manually recreate a biodiverse ecosystem with organisms that previously failed to thrive when coexisting in a natural habitat."

"I love it when you talk nerd talk," Ronan joked. "You're going to win the Nobel Prize someday."

Adam felt his face flush hot. "They don't have a Nobel Prize for Ecology."

"Yeah, well, they're going to start giving a Nobel Prize for Ecology just to give it to you."

Adam blushed even further. "I doubt that. They do have the Ramon Margalef Prize for Ecology though."

"You'll win that too. Wait – hold on…" Ronan stepped away from the frame. "Lloyd, I swear to Jesus Christ Almighty that, if you don't stop yelling at me, I'm going to come down there and stuff that ugly, ass bowtie you're wearing down your throat!" He came back into the frame for a second before popping back out again and yelling, "Don't be crude, Lloyd! I'll come the fuck down when I'm ready to come – shut up, before you even say it!"

Once back in the frame, he rolled his eyes. "He's driving me completely batshite."

"Isn't that what you pay him for?"

"Yeah, but he doesn't have to be so good at it."

"Sounds like you have to go. You're okay?"

"Yep. Sound editor is locked in. I actually like her better than the dickface who quit on us. We had the wrap party the other night. I… yeah, it was good."

"Oh. Wow. Ronan that – does it feel strange now that your last film is over?"

"Not over yet. Got a fuck ton to do. We're trying to get the movie in the can by late June. There's a summer film festival in London. Anna wants to debut it there, hoping to get a distributer by late summer.

"That means you'll be back in L.A. a lot then."

Ronan shrugged. "When I need to be." 

Now, Adam could hear Lloyd screaming in the background. "You'd better go," he said, "before Lloyd drags you out. Are you going to this _thing_ alone?"

Ronan surveyed him, his eyes squinting in annoyance. "Are you asking if I have a date?"

Afraid his voice would sound pathetic, he only nodded.

"No. I do not have a date. My _date_ is sitting in D.C. annoying me with such a stupid ass question. I'm going to go now. Without a date to my thing, unless you count Lloyd, who I think might've actually had a heart attack and died down there, because he's too fucking quiet all of a sudden."

"Okay. Hey, we should've done this sooner."

"Yep. We should have." Ronan smiled. Adam's heart leapt up to meet it. "Do it again when you get settled in London?"

"For sure."

After he hung-up, Adam realized that Ronan hadn't told him what the _thing_ he had was. He didn't need to wait long to find out. In the morning, while having breakfast with Blue in the break room at the research lab, she shoved her phone under his nose. "Gansey showed me this this morning."

Adam pressed play on the video.

"Ronan Lynch looked his usual confident and cool self as he attended a charity event where he was the guest of honor."

Ronan appeared on the video, standing alone on the red carpet posing as dozens of cameras flashed all around him. Adam spotted Lloyd in the background, fraternizing with, who Adam assumed, were the other assistants.

"The action star looked handsome in a classic black tuxedo as he arrived at the charity event to raise money for his own brainchild the _Welcome Home Center_."

A close-up of a woman's face appeared. The banner underneath her read, _'Nancy Reddington: Executive Director of Welcome Home Center_. "There were groups specifically designed to help teens here in Los Angeles, but nothing for young adults. A lot of young adults come here after high school or college and get lost in this world. It's not just the ones who get caught up in partying and drugs, but ones who are underpaid and abused at their jobs. Ronan noticed this and wanted a place for them to get the support that they need. Whether it's mental health services, legal or career advice, or, sometimes, just money for a plane ticket home, the _Welcome Home Center_ is here to help the young adults of Los Angeles."

The Executive Director finished speaking and the announcer took over as the video changed to inside the fundraiser, where Ronan stood at a podium in front of the audience, holding a glass award. "At the gala Ronan Lynch surprised Executive Director Nancy Reddington, who believed that Lynch was to be honored at the event. Instead, Lynch got up on stage and presented Nancy with an award for her hard-work and dedication."

"I just gave Nancy money and an idea," Ronan said to the crowd. "She did the rest of it. She's the one who deserves all the honors."

"Lynch gave more than just money," the announcer said. "It's reported that he donated his entire salary of $23.5 million for his blockbuster hit _'Doomsday Clock'_ to open the center." 

The camera closed in as Nancy came up on stage to accept the award from an embarrassed looking Ronan. The video ended with a website for the center.

Adam handed the phone back to Blue, thinking there was so much more to discover about Ronan and the depth of his kindness. 

"I talked to him last night," Adam said. "He was wearing a tux, but didn't go into details as to where he was going."

"Gansey didn't know about the center either. He's really so proud of Ronan."

"Blue…"

"Yes...?"

"How did you know you were all in for your relationship with Gansey?"

Looking at the inside of her yogurt container, she scraped the insides of it and said, "When I didn't want to kill him for all the stupid things that he says."

Adam chuckled. "Seriously."

"I am serious. That's how I knew." 

Sitting back in his chair, he crossed his arms. "Okay, but that's how you knew that you loved him. But when did you know that you wanted to commit to him for the long-term?"

"I don't know, Adam. There were a lot of little things that all added up. You know, the things that make you go all starry-eyed about the other person."

All the 'little' things about Ronan added up in Adam's head, until they were one huge thing, sitting right there on his heart. 

"And," she continued, "I knew because I want to," as she said it, Adam thought it, "talk to him every day. And I want to –"

"Be with him every chance that I have," Adam finished. Blue beamed at him. "I have to go." He grabbed his coffee cup and stood up. "I have a really important phone call to make."

~ ~ ~

When Ronan wasn't in California, he'd tell everyone how much he hated it. Because he did hate it. He didn't trust anyplace that was sunny all the time. Sun fucked with people's minds. Made them think everything was okay, when it wasn't. People moved to places like California or Florida, thinking the great weather will take away all of their problems. Instead, they stay the same fucked-up people they were before, now they were just tanner and sweatier.

But when he was in California, he started to think that maybe it wasn't all that bad. He blamed Stockholm Syndrome. 

He will miss some of it though. He'll miss driving it most of all. Everyone know about the traffic in L.A., but, if you knew where and when to drive, the roads were amazing, spreading wide open, surrounded by water and mountains, and nothing but fresh air and sun. 

All six hundred and fifty-six miles of California State Route 1 hugged the coastline of California. Ronan had once driven it from L.A. to San Fran. An eight-hour drive. Drunk. It amazed him that he had survived himself. 

A few days before he was scheduled to go home, he got up, blew off a morning meeting, and jumped in his favorite car for coastal highway driving, the 1968 red Camaro convertible he'd bought after driving it in the movie _'Folsom Five.'_

On the highway, Ronan pictured his drive as a classic movie scene: an aerial shot of the actor, his sun glasses on, driving along winding roads, the mountains to his right, the ocean to his left, a soundtrack playing or maybe a voice-over. What would his voice-over say?

_'I don't know if this will be the last time that I take this drive, but it will be the last time that I take it as Ronan Lynch Movie Star.'_

He shook his head. _'That was shit.'_

Swinging around the curves, faster than the speed limit, his mind cleared. That's what driving had always done for him. Driving had always made him feel like he was weightless, like he was flying, which was ironic, since he hated planes.

He didn't stop until he was three hours from L.A.. He swerved the car off the road, parking it facing the ocean. He popped his AirPods in and sat on the hood. He sat there for hours in the wide-open space, breathing in fresh air. He loved the outdoors. Day. Night. It didn't matter. He always felt better when he could feel and smell everything that came with the outside. When he was little, he used to drive his parents crazy by climbing up on rooftops in the rain. He'd lie there on the roof, letting the rain soak his clothes and his hair. After they'd told him to stop doing it because he was getting his clothes all wet, he'd done it naked.

The past few weeks in Hollywood had been hectic and filled with things that made him uncomfortable. He'd needed this time away to himself, without being told what to wear, how to act, and who to be nice to. Even with the music blasting in his ears, he was thinking more clearly out here. 

He thought about his own story.

_'One thousand and seventy-nine days of sobriety behind me. What's in front of me?'_

Finish the movie. He didn't care if it was a hit with critics or the audience; it only mattered that he'd done it and that he was proud of it. But, still, behave because other people, who worked on the movie, needed it to be successful. 

Move back to the Barns and start a life there, outside of the public eye and the claws of the cruel and manipulative Hollywood powerful. 

And Adam… He wanted _Adam_. So much. But he couldn't control how Adam felt about him or what Adam wanted. He couldn't make plans around Adam, until he knew that Adam wanted a future with him too.

_'God, grant me the serenity to accept the things that I cannot change…'_

Ronan knew that he could try to manipulate Adam to be with him. He'd seen how someone can press on the most vulnerable parts of a person, making them feel like they need the manipulator to breath. People like Kavinsky manipulated you rough and raw, ripping you open, then making you feel like he was the only one who could stop the bleeding. Niall Lynch had been different. He'd done it smooth and sweet, filling you with promises of love and attention and, when he took that love and attention away, he'd made you feel like it had been your fault and all you'd want to do was be better, try harder, so hard that you'd break yourself open for him.

But even though Ronan was almost an exact visual replica of his father, inside he was a hundred percent his mother. He wanted love, not lies and manipulation. Changing or controlling Adam was something he very much did not want to do. Adam Parrish was his own man. He loved Adam's strength and independence. He _loved_. He loved Adam. 

He wanted Adam to love him for who he really was, no lies, not acting, just him. And he knew that if Adam fell in love with him and wanted to make a relationship work, that Adam would be completely devoted to it, like he was with everything that he wanted to do in his life. That's why it made it harder that he'd decided, if Adam didn't want to move this relationship further soon, he would have to end it. He knew dragging out a heavily one-sided relationship wasn't healthy. Waiting, hoping, worrying that he wasn't good enough would chew away at his self-esteem, until it he ended up back in a dark place. 

He had to write his own story, direct it to where he wanted it to go. 

The stories he'd written as a child always had, like all the classics stories did, a hero, but it'd never been him. The character that he'd crafted after himself had always been the sarcastic fighter, but open-hearted, loyal friend. The first time he'd written his self-insert character kissing a boy, his mother had sat him down at the kitchen table. That had meant serious talk. 

_'Ronan, honey, is this why you've never the hero? Do you think you have to like princesses in order to be the hero?'_

_Ronan rolled his fourteen-year-old eyes. 'Nah. Just don't wanna be.'_

_'You know it's okay to kiss boys, if you want to.'_

_'Yeah. Sure. Whatever.'_

He hadn't known that it was okay to kiss boys. He'd seen Declan kissing girls, plenty of girls. He'd thought he'd want to kiss a girl someday, but it'd never happened. When he'd thought about kissing boys, he'd thought it had been another make-believe thing that he'd made up in his mind and that he'd never find a real boy who'd want to kiss him.

After that, his mother had made sure that he'd known it was more than okay. She'd introduced him to all the homosexual art and stories that she could find. She had taught him that he deserved to be loved and cherished. God, he missed her so much.

Now, he, finally, wanted to be the hero of his own story.

After a while, he left the lot and walked along the beach, taking photos, stopping for hot dogs and ice cream, and thinking more about Adam. They hadn't spoken since their last date. Adam had texted him first, asking him if he'd gotten to L.A. okay. Ronan imagined what Adam would think about his apartment and life in L.A.. He was pretty sure Adam would find the huge gap in economic classes here disgusting. Like his mother had. Ronan had been too drunk and too self-centered for years to have noticed. Now, he couldn't stop noticing the grotesqueness of it all.

Owning four cars – well, five, if you count his father's BMW – certainly landed him in the grotesque category. When he got back to the car, he leaned against it and called Lloyd.

"Call that fucker Leno," he said. "Offer him the '54 Gullwing and the custom Ghia. Whatever amount he offers, add on twenty – no, thirty percent, and tell him part of the deal is that he has to donate the exact amount he pays to the center, as well. If he's a dick about it, tell him I'll sell those fuckers to that asshole Letterman."

"Donate your profits from the sale to the center?"

"No. Not this time. Give it to Thrive DC. Give the new BMW to the center. Tell Nancy sell it, use it, whatever the fuck she needs it for."

"Sure thing," Lloyd said. "You're a good man, princess."

Ronan grunted and hung up on him. He hopped on the hood of the Camaro. He loved this car. He was keeping this car. He wanted to drive through the mountain roads of Virginia with the top down. Maybe with Adam, but if it had to be alone, then it was alone.

He sat on the hood of the car for hours, watching the tide go in and out, taking photos of seagulls and surfers and debating if he should send them to Adam. After the sun had dropped down past the horizon, Ronan headed back to L.A.. The night had chilled the air, but he left the top down and the radio off, letting the sound of the wind and the ocean be the only music he heard. 

His debate, over whether to send Adam any of the photos, ended the next day. While stressing about getting ready for an event, he added the one of the sunset to a message.

_'It's not a declaration of your undying love and devotion. Jesus fucking Christ. Send the fucking thing already.'_

He hit send.

"Lloyd!" he shouted from his bedroom. "You cocksucker! Where the fuck are my pants?"

Calmly, Lloyd walked into the room, carrying Ronan's pants on a hanger. "May I remind you that you are, in fact, a cocksucker too; so, that's hardly an insult." 

Ronan grabbed the pants from Lloyd. "And where the fuck are my –"

"Your shoes are next to the bed – no. The other side. What's got you in a snit?"

Ronan's phone buzzed briefly. "Nothing. Get the fuck out and let me get dressed."

"I've seen you in your undies before, Ronan."

"Go!"

"Fifteen minutes. I mean it! Fifteen. Minutes."

It was twenty-nine minutes when he came downstairs with the image of Adam, looking at him through his phone screen, burned into his mind.

"Aren't you going to yell at me for being late?" he asked.

Grinning like a lunatic, Lloyd shook his head. "Nope. Don't want to ruin your cheery mood."

"What the fuck. I'm not in a cheery goddamn mood."

Lloyd waved his finger in a circle around Ronan's eyes. "Yes, you are, sweetie. Your mouth always spews the same old crap, but I can always tell by your eyes."

Ronan glowered at Lloyd. "And don't think I don't know that you were eavesdropping and know exactly why I'm in a goddamn, fucking cheery mood."

"I'm going to kiss you now," Lloyd said.

"Don't you dare, you little shit. You'll wrinkle my tux."

"How sad…" Lloyd put his fist against his chest. "Ronan Lynch's rebel heart has died."

"Oh, yeah…" Ronan grabbed Lloyd and pulled him into a massive hold – not a hug, it was definitely not a hug – and pressed down Lloyd's hair with his lips – not a kiss, it was definitely not a kiss.

"Ugh!" Lloyd mumbled into his chest. "Why do you always have to be so extreme?"

Laughing, Ronan let him go. He was feeling much better about tonight. He remembered when he used to actually, sort of, enjoy walking the red carpet. Then he was shit-faced and angry, giving people the middle finger, making out with hot boys, grabbing his crotch; basically, doing everything to piss people off. He still wanted to piss people off, just not in the same way. 

Inside the fundraiser, some reporter asked him what gave him the idea for the center, Ronan answered truthfully, "Hollywood preys on young people too afraid to do anything. They hire them as assistants and clerks and treat them like chattel, verbally abusing them, making them clean up their shit – sometimes, literally – and laugh to each other about it. And those kids are the lucky ones. The really unlucky ones get fucked up and abused in way worse ways. I wanted to help them find a way out of the hell hole they'd fallen into."

He thought he'd catch shit from Anna for the comment. He didn't give a shit about making a dime from _'We All Die,'_ but he wanted her and the rest of the cast and crew to be successful from it. But, a few days later, on the day he flew home, he got a text from her as waited in the private VIP suites at LAX, _'Read your quote about the center. YAAAS! Call those motherfuckers out! #stompthepatriarchy #fuckcisstraightwhitemen #metoo'_ Followed by a standing ovation gif.

It helped brighten his dark mood. He hated flying. Being trapped inside a tin fucking can for hours was a living nightmare. Doing it sober was living in the thirteen level of hell. 

On the plane, a hot, young flight attendant led him and Lloyd to their front row, first-class seats. "If there's anything else I can do," he said. "Just ask. I'm here to serve you, Mr. Lynch."

Ronan grunted and flopped into the window seat. Maybe, a few years, he would've taken him into the bathroom for a quick blowjob. Now, the thought of it turned Ronan's stomach. 

Lloyd clucked his tongue. "Well, Mr. Coffee, tea, or me, isn't very subtle. Hot, but not subtle and not as hot as Adam though."

Ignoring Lloyd's own obvious attempts at a deep conversation, Ronan put in his AirPods and closed his eyes. Lloyd took the hint and took care of ordering his food and drink for him. He dozed throughout the flight, sleep rough but with lucid dreams.

Back on the right side of the country, Finn met them as soon as he could in the airport. He tossed the keys to Lloyd and said, "Car's parked on the fifth level. I'll get the bags."

"Why the fuck did he park all the way up here?" Ronan grumbled on the elevator. 

"Okay, Mr. Crankypants, we'll get you home soon," Lloyd said.

The fifth level of the parking lot was mostly empty, making it easy to spot the Escalade parked several spots away from the elevator. 

"Why'd he leave the car running?"

"To keep it warm for your perfect, precious ass, I guess," Lloyd replied. 

Lloyd opened the passenger-side backdoor for him. Ronan started to step in, but froze in shock. "Parrish?" Ronan looked at Lloyd and back at Adam, who was sitting behind the driver's seat, in his navy blue peacoat and gray wool hat, smiling shyly at him. He gave him a small half wave. "What the fuck's going on?"

Lloyd gave Ronan a shove on the ass. Ronan pulled himself into the backseat. Lloyd looked inside, past Ronan to Adam

"Twenty minutes, Adam," he said.

"Got it. Thanks, Lloyd."

Lloyd closed the door, and Ronan heard the locks click.

"Seriously, Adam, what are you doing here? Why aren't you on your way to London?"

"I'm taking a later flight. Finn's going to drive me to the terminal."

"What the fuck? But you'll miss – you'll miss – I don't know…" Ronan couldn't think straight. Adam was here, looking at him like... "I don't know - _something_."

"Nah. I was flying in to get there the night before. Now, I'll arrive in the morning. I'll still have time to get to my hotel and freshen up before the opening breakfast. I'll be tired, but nothing I can't handle."

"Holy shit… I… what – why?"

Without warning, Adam swung one of his long legs over Ronan's lap and straddled him. Thankfully, the Escalade was huge and gave him room to do it. He still had to bend his neck down. He wrapped his strong hands around the back of Ronan's neck. Instinctively, Ronan wrapped his arms around his waist. 

"Why…? I don't understand," Ronan said.

"Why do you think I'd delay my flight just to spend twenty minutes with you in the back of an Escalade?"

"I…" Ronan really looked at Adam now. And he saw it then. The way Adam was looking at him. He knew that look. It was the look he'd been given Adam for weeks.

"Oh. Are you sure?"

"Oh, yeah. Yeah. I'm sure." Adam kissed him. "Really sure." Adam cradled his face in his hands and kissed him again. "Like sure – _a lot_."

Ronan grabbed the back of Adam's head and met him halfway for a deep kiss. He was still reeling from the sudden shift in emotions, but he sure as shit wasn't going to let it stop him from enjoying this. He tried to calculate in his mind just how much they could accomplish in the back seat in twenty – no, now probably sixteen, maybe fifteen minutes. It had been so long; he wouldn't last long anyway. No. They shouldn't. He won't. This wasn't right. Not like this. Ronan wanted to take Adam to the Barns. He wanted it to be great, not fast.

"Hey…" Adam pulled away, panting. Ronan had pulled his hat off and his hair looked wild from Ronan's desperate fingers. "You okay?"

"Jesus Christ," Ronan said. "What's with you and stupid questions?" He pulled Adam's mouth back down to his.

_'Was he okay? Was he okay?'_

Of course, he was okay. Adam Parrish loved him. He repeated it over and over in his head, _'Adam loves me. Adam loves me.'_

"I thought…" Adam said, panting. "Thought it…." Ronan pulled Adam's scarf off and threw it on the floor. "Thought it would feel…" He pulled Adam's coat aside and kissed his neck and ear as Adam babbled. "Thought it would feel like falling." Ronan kissed along his jaw to the other side. "But it doesn't… Ronan… it doesn't. It feels like…" 

"Flying," Ronan said. "It feels like flying."

"Yeah," Adam breathed. He pressed his lips to Ronan's ear. "God, Ronan, I'm really, _really_ sure."

Jesus fucking Christ almighty in heaven, he was so goddamn fucking okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there it is. The end of Act II: They Fall in Love. Next Act III: They Live Happily Ever After.
> 
> Thank you to all you marvelous people who are reading this fic. I appreciate every kudos and comments. I hope you really enjoyed this chapter!


	12. Chapter 12

A Love Story in Three Acts  
Act. III  
_They Live Happily Ever After (most of the time)_

Noah Czerny died once. Everyone who knew him, knew that. Noah died a second time. They knew that. Noah Czerny died twice and he came back to life twice. They knew that too. What they didn't know was that he'd come back different, but not in the I-died-and-now-I-have-to-live-my-life-to-the-fullest sort of way. He'd come back _weird_ different.

He died, he came back, and, now, he can sense other peoples' emotions. Weird, right? 

In the beginning, after he'd rose from the dead, the swarm of emotions from everyone within a fairly wide radius (he'd never officially tested how far), tearing him apart physically and emotionally, had convinced him that he'd been cursed for not staying dead. Not that he would've traded it in and gone back to being dead. He was creepy, not stupid.

He'd had no one that he could talk to about it. So, like all good millennials, he'd turned to the internet to self-diagnose himself. There, buried under a lot of content about being 'sensitive' to other people's feelings and fanworks devoted to the _Star Trek: The Next Generation_ character Deanna Troi, he'd found a blog about Psychic Empaths. 

The owner of the blog owned a resort in Colorado that taught people, with any level of sixth sense, how to cope with their abilities. He'd signed up for a week long retreat. Honestly, he hadn't been sure that it wasn't a cult, and he'd prepared an elaborate escape plan just in case. 

It had turned out that it wasn't a cult, and he'd learned a lot about meditation and building up mental barriers and got a great massage and pedicure too. Over the years, with practice, he'd developed the skills he'd needed to filter the emotions. He couldn't stop them all together. It was like instead of open window, there was now a window screen, filtering the emotions, so they didn't come at him so hard. 

Except when he slept, he couldn't keep his defensives up. Objects helped him then. He'd learned that on a psychic forum. A user there, named _TheFoxofFoxWay_, had told him that objects can absorb emotions. Not all objects, she'd said, and some more than others. Like the King of Spades. He absorbed a lot of emotional energy. But the Queen of Diamonds – not her; she wanted none of your shit. 

That's why Noah's room looked like an out of control garage sale. He found the objects that were willing and empty and brought them to his room to absorb the emotions of the full-time and part-time residents of the brownstone. 

With that screen in place, he was able to find his ability, if not enjoyable, interesting. Emotions were more complex than he could've ever imagined. They were nuanced and came in varying degrees. For example, peaceful and content were not the same thing. Neither was joy and excitement. Love and pain and hope and despair came in many different forms and, were interwoven so tightly together, in some people, that they became a whole new emotion altogether. 

Like within Ronan. Ronan had come home yesterday, from L.A., overflowing with hope and love. But, through the night, those feelings had tangled up with despair and loss, and merged into something that was dangerously close to pushing Ronan headfirst into oncoming self-destruction. 

Even with all of his defenses in place and his objects taking away some of it, Ronan's emotions still chewed at Noah with sharp, hot teeth.

"Where you going?" Noah called from his room when he heard Ronan's boots trample down the stairs.

"Out," Ronan called out.

Noah followed him to the foyer. Ronan was putting on his leather jacket. "Out where? Going to a meeting?"

"My mother's dead, Czerny. Lay the fuck off."

Ronan put his hand on the door. Ronan's dependencies, his craving, felt stronger than anything else. Ronan needed help. Noah wanted to be sure that he got some. 

"I need a ride, that's all," Noah said.

"You're going out? Where?"

Noah tried to remember what was close-by where Ronan attended his meeting. "Um, I need, ah, new sneakers."

"It's nine-thirty in the fucking morning, asshole."

"Store opens at ten."

"Running a marathon anytime soon?" 

Trying to talk to Ronan in his native language, Noah snapped back, "None of your fucking business. If you don't want to drive me, Lynch, just fucking say so. I'll get the metro."

Ronan let go of the door handle. "Fine."

"Okay. Fine." Noah grabbed his coat and slipped it on.

"Freak, I know you said you need new shoes, but," Ronan waved at the slippers on Noah's feet, "come on." 

"Right. Hold on," he said as he ran up the steps to his room.

With a pair of perfectly good sneakers on and a sweatshirt he didn't sleep in, Noah followed Ronan outside to the BMW. 

Niall Lynch had dropped Ronan off on his first day at Aglionby in this car. Ronan hadn't been the only child of a celebrity at Aglionby, though he'd been the most famous. Declan had been there first and that had shaved off some of the curiosity. Yet, when Niall Lynch had pulled up into the parking lot that morning, every head had turned around to watch Ronan, who still had his curls and his mother, get out of this car, dressed in black bravado, gold cross dangling unironically from his neck, ready to fight, looking like he didn't care if he'd win or lose, as long as he fought.

"Hey, weirdo!" Ronan slammed on the brakes at a stop sign. "Earth to Noah."

"Oh, sorry. What?"

"Where's this sneaker store that you absolutely have to get to right this minute?"

"Around the corner from your meeting."

Ronan eyes squinted. "How the fuck you know where my meetings are?"

"One time when Finn was picking you up, he gave me a ride."

"Right. To the same sneaker store?"

"Um… yeah."

They got lucky and found a parking spot on Ronan's third time around the same block. He parallel-parked the BMW like a pro. 

Noah didn't get out, and Ronan sat, unmoving, clutching the top of steering wheel with both hands.

Noah asked, "You're not going to the meeting?"

"They don't have twenty-four fucking seven meetings."

"Oh… so there's no meetings at all in the mornings?"

Ronan opened and closed his mouth a few times. He grabbed his phone and tapped angrily on it. "Next meeting's at 10:30."

"Cool – cool, we can eat first then. There's a bagel place around the block. I'll grab us bagels and coffees."

Noah didn't give Ronan a chance to protest. He ran out of the car, grabbed breakfast, and got back into the car as quickly as humanly possible. 

As they ate, Noah rambled on about random things, while Ronan ate, nodded and grunted, his forehead wrinkled tight. Noah took the last bite and checked his phone. "It's, uh, ten twenty."

Ronan huffed. "I'm going to the fucking meeting, asshole. You want to hold my hand all the way there?" Noah didn't bother responding. Ronan turned the car off and gave Noah the key. "I'll be back in about an hour. Be back before I am."

Noah made sure he was back in the car with plenty of time to spare. He threw his new pair of sneakers in the backseat, turned the car on for some heat and played Bubble Witch on his phone until Ronan came back. 

Ronan's cravings felt less intense, but he was still wound up really tight. 

"Hey, so, that bagel was awesome," Noah said, "but I really feel like a cheesesteak for lunch."

"Can't get a fucking decent cheesesteak around here."

"Yeah, right? I know. There's a place in Bethesda that has okay ones."

"Fuck that. If you're going to drive to fucking Bethesda, might's well drive to Philly."

"Okay."

"What?"

Noah shrugged. "Okay. Let's drive to Philly."

Ronan looked at him with his usual hard glare. Then the corner of his mouth ticked up slightly. "Text Gansey."

Thirty minutes later, the three of them were speeding down I-95 in the BMW, arguing over the radio.

"I'm driving!" Ronan turned up the volume. "It's my car! So shut your fucking face holes!" he shouted over the same obnoxious music he'd forced them to listen to years ago, driving around Henrietta. Noah had no idea if it was the exact same songs or new ones. They all sounded horribly the same.

Gansey played along, pretending that he was annoyed, but Noah could feel the contentment and joy he felt. Gansey loved nothing more than being surrounded by the people that he loved, so that he could see they were safe and happy.

They spent the ride mostly in silence: Ronan driving and tapping his thumb on the steering wheel to the beat of the music, Gansey looking out the window as Maryland turned into Delaware and Delaware turned into Pennsylvania. 

By the time Philadelphia's skyline came into view, the hopelessness that Noah had felt coming from Ronan earlier had almost disappeared. He pulled off 95 and into the city, driving them along the Delaware River.

"You know where you're going?" Noah shouted.

Ronan turned the radio down. "Yeah. Shot a movie here a few years ago."

"You did?" Gansey asked. "Which one?"

"_'The Winter of Truth',_" Ronan replied. 

"Oh, right – right," Gansey said. "The one where the President was evil and you had to kill him?"

"Nah. It was the one where my character is a dockworker and he uncovers biological weapons and a terroristic plot."

"Ah. Yeah. I remember that one."

Ronan turned and, a few blocks later, they drove over railroad tracks and Ronan parked next to a small concrete shack. Noah read the sign out loud, "_South Philly Roast Park_. I thought we were getting cheesesteaks?"

"We are," Ronan said as he put on his black beanie, followed by a pair of aviator sunglasses. "Pork sandwich's great too. I'm getting one of each."

Inside the shack was a moderate line, Ronan told them that they were lucky. That sometimes the line's out the door. Luck was even more on their side. The woman pointed at them and said, "You're the last customers. Anyone comes in the door, tell 'em that."

No one seemed to recognize Ronan. There were a few lingering glances, but he was six-foot-three and wearing sunglass inside. That was bound to attract attention.

As they approached the counter, Ronan asked them what they wanted on their sandwiches. Once at the counter, Ronan tapped on it in front of one of the guys cooking. The guy looked up, annoyed, until Ronan lowered his sunglasses and said, "How the fuck ya doin', Mike?"

The guy broke out into a grin. "Yo, what the fuck, you-jerk-off?" He gave Ronan a fist bump. "Whatcha doin' around here?" He lowered his voice. "Working?"

"Nah. Bros day out. Drive in from D.C. to get a real sandwich."

"Fantastic. You want one of each?"

"Yeah. For all of us. Peppers, no cheese on one pair. Cheese and onion on another. And everything on mine."

"Provolone or American?"

"American on the one with onion," Gansey said.

"Provolone on mine," Ronan said. 

Mike insisted that they don't pay. Ronan insisted that they do; so, they did, and Noah saw Ronan drop two twenties into the tip jar. When their sandwiches were ready, they took them and their sodas outside to benches surrounded by heat lamps and makeshift walls. After they all took photos of the sandwiches, they started on the cheesesteaks first. Mike came out to join them a short while later, sitting next to Ronan.

He looked at Noah and Gansey. "Ya know this guy is awesome right?"

"Fucking don't, Mikey," Ronan said, shaking his head.

"Nah, seriously. Let me tell you what this guy did. My kid Nicolas was having a shit time at school. He's the smart nerdy type, you know. Other kids were being assholes to him. 

"So, Ronan comes in here one day, and my kid's here, being a pain in the ass about this science project he wants to do. Ronan lets me introduce him. All I knew about this guy," he put his hand on Ronan's shoulder, "was that he looked like prick. But here's my kid talking Ronan's ear off about this project, and, Jesus Christ, you should hear this kid when he gets excited about something. 

"Anyway. He wanted to do something about stunts in action movies – proving why you can't do them in real life with some physics shit." Mike nodded as if someone said something. No one had said anything. They were all too busy eating. "I know, right? Talk about a fucking buzzkill. It wasn't going to win him any cool points at school. But, Ronan here, invites Nicholas on set for first hand experience. Lets him take lots of photos _and_, Ronan here, does a video introducing his class project. The kids at school went real fucking apeshit for it. The kid was a celebrity."

Ronan was clearly uncomfortable. Gansey was grinning at Ronan with all the love and adoration in the world.

"Yeah," Noah said, kicking Ronan under the table. "We know he's pretty fucking great."

"Well, I gotta get inside and clean up." He stood up. "You stopping by the bar after this?"

Ronan shook his head. "Nah, man. I'm sober."

"Well, that explains why I haven't seen your dumbass all over those pieces of shit gossip shows doing something stupid. Good for you. Don't be a stranger." He squeezed Ronan's shoulder and went back into the shack.

"You're such a softie," Noah said, batting his eyelashes at Ronan. "You're my hero."

"Fuck off, Czerny. I swear to God, I'll leave you stranded here in Philly."

"I wouldn't mind," Noah replied and took a huge bite out of his pork sandwich. He pointed at his mouth as he chewed. "Ith fucwkin awesen."

Gansey nodded. "They are fucking awesome, indeed."

Ronan finished first and started a group text that included the three of them and Adam and Blue. He sent a photo of the sandwiches and the message, _'Road trip. Guess where?'_

They were done their sandwiches and back in the car, heading for the art museum, when Adam texted back. Noah read it and informed them, "He has no idea. Said Blue doesn’t either."

The next message they sent was a video of Noah at the top of the art museum steps, fists in the air, bouncing around, loudly humming the theme from _Rocky._

Adam replied back within a few minutes. All three of them looked at their phones. _'Philadelphia. And, yes, Ronan, even I know that movie reference.'_

Blue texted, _'Send more.'___

_ _Adam added, _'Please.'__ _

_ _They happily complied with that request. By the time it was over, they'd sent six more photos: all of them in front of the Rocky and one in front of Love statue; Gansey, outside the Rodin museum, standing at _The Thinker_ sculpture, imitating it; Noah with his arm around a man dressed as Ben Franklin; Ronan, looking cool and bored, in front of a huge statue of a clothespin; and Ronan, giving Noah a noogie, in front of a large mural of Larry from the _Three Stooges_. _ _

_ _It started to get dark in Philly, and Ronan couldn't hide behind sunglasses anymore. They needed to head back home. As they walked back to the car, Ronan kept his head down, and they got back to the car without anyone spotting him. _ _

_ _"That was easier than I thought," said Gansey._ _

_ _Ronan threw him the key. "You drive." Gansey looked shocked, but he got into the driver's seat. "And yeah, it's not that hard. If you don't act like an attention-seeking asshole, most people don't look at you." _ _

_ _As Gansey started the car and they headed towards home, Ronan buried his head in his phone, typing and reading, his expression soft and affectionate, very un-Ronan like. Noah didn't need his sixth sense to know that he was texting Adam. _ _

_ _"So, you and Adam…" Gansey said._ _

_ _Ronan dropped his hand and his phone on his lap. "What about us?"_ _

_ _"Things are, um, progressing, I take it?"_ _

_ _"They've progressed," Ronan simply replied. _ _

_ _Ronan inclined his seat back, folded his arms across his chest, and closed his eyes. Gansey put on a talk radio station. Noah took out the pewter Rocky statue he'd bought at a tacky souvenir shop. This thing was tough. It would absorb a lot of emotions. When he looked up, Ronan's eyes were open and staring at him._ _

_ _"How'd you know?" he asked._ _

_ _Noah shrugged. "Know what?"_ _

_ _Ronan kept staring at him. _ _

_ _Noah stared back. "What are you looking at, dickface?"_ _

_ _With a slight shake of his head, Ronan said, "I don't know how you do it – if you read minds or it's some sort of dumb luck – but… well, thanks, shit-stain."_ _

_ _Noah grinned. "You know me, Lynch." He winked. "Just dumb is all."_ _

_ __ _

~ ~ ~

"Not every AA story is a happy ending, Ronan."

Ronan glared at his sponsor Jack through the iPad screen propped up by its case and resting on the kitchen island. "I know that. This is… okay, I know us drunks get arrested all the time. But his sponsor Kevin said that it was a minor scuffle in a bar and then the cops claimed Andre resisted arrested and reached for one of the officer's guns. Kevin was pretty shaken up about it."

"And you don't think that's true?"

"No – I don't know. I know we're all unpredictable when we're drinking, but it doesn't seem like Andre. Kevin didn't think so either. He talked to the bartender and she said that the only resisting she saw Andre do was saying, _'Come on, man, he started it.'_"

Jack scratched his beard. "So, you want to bail him out of this trouble?"

"I don't know. I know we're supposed to practice tough love and all that crap – let the acholic hit rock bottom… but he's just a fucking kid. This… this will ruin his life. What reason will he have to get sober now?"

"You're right. We aren't supposed to help. We're supposed to let him suffer the consequences of his own actions."

"You think I shouldn't help him then?"

"Fuck no. You've got to get that kid the fuck out of there."

Ronan sat up straight. "Really?"

"Hell yeah. As a black guy, I'm telling you that kid's goddamn lucky to be alive right now. Saying he went for a gun! That's fucked up chumped up charges, right there. No way in hell that Andre's going to get a fair trial or a fair sentencing. This kid could spend a decade or more in jail for simply being black."

"Fuck, yeah, okay. Yeah."

"His sponsor Kevin's a black dude too?"

Ronan nodded.

"He wants you to help too – trust me. He doesn't know you. Didn't want to ask you for the money."

"Have to go. I'll take care of this."

"Let me know how it goes."

"Yeah."

Ronan hung-up. He texted Kevin first. '_Send me all the information you have on Andre's situation. I'm getting my lawyers on it.'_

Next was Lloyd. Before Lloyd could say 'hello,' Ronan started talking, "I'm going to be sending you information about someone who was arrested here in D.C.. The charges are bullshit. Call Jeff tell –"

"Jeff's not a criminal lawyer."

"I fucking know that, _Lloyd_. But he'll be able to find one. I want the best. I don't give a fuck how much it costs."

He hung up and texted Adam. _'You back in your room for the night?'_

He took out all the ingredients and kitchenware he needed for dinner while waiting for a text back.

_'I was in the shower. Want to talk now?'_

_'facetime'_

Before Ronan could finish positioning the iPad, so he could see Adam and still chop vegetables, Adam was there on his screen, hair wet, cheeks glowing pink, and grinning at Ronan. 

Ronan grinned back. "Hey."

"Hey. You making dinner?"

"Yeah. Matthew and Declan are coming over too."

"What are you making?"

"Two lasagnas - vegetable and meat."

"They'll eat it all."

"Yeah."

"Did you talk to your sponsor?"

"Yep. He said I should help Andre."

Adam made a surprised noise.

"You don't agree?"

"No. It's not that I don't agree. I don't really…" He pushed his bangs back. "I need a haircut. No. What I mean is that this isn't my area."

"It's fuck all new to me too." Ronan told Adam what Jack had said as he sliced the mushrooms. 

"I think you did the right thing, Ronan."

"But…"

"What, no, there's not a 'but.' But…" Adam chuckled. "Okay. There's a 'but'. Are you hoping that you helping Andre will make him want to get sober?"

"For fuck's sake," Ronan replied, irritated. "Of course, I'm hoping that Andre gets sober."

"Are you hoping that what you're doing for him will make him, um, _owe_ you that?"

Ronan stopped chopping. "What? No? I don't think…" He stopped, because maybe he did, just a little.

"I'm… I just…" Adam struggled for words. A wrinkle appeared between his eyebrows. But he looked at Ronan and they held each other's gaze. "I don't want to see you hurt."

"I can't help but hope," Ronan said. He laid down the knife. "But you're right. I shouldn't expect anything from him."

He picked up the knife again and a green bell pepper and started to slice it. He asked, "How was your week? Doing anything not nerdy this weekend?"

Adam caught Ronan up on some of the key points of his week and the tour of London that him, Blue, and some others would be taking tomorrow. Ronan listened, nodded, and started layering the lasagna in the pan. He liked this, talking about each other's weeks, the closeness and intimacy of it. It was nice, but he wanted Adam here. _Now._ Not next week. He wanted sex, yes, but he, also, wanted to be able to brush Adam's hair back, wanted to touch him, wanted to put his head on Adam's chest and fall asleep listening to his heartbeat, or have Adam fall asleep on his, so he could wake up and kiss the top of Adam's head and feel his hair tickle his… _'Oh, Jesus H. Christ…'_ he had it so bad.

"Did you talk to Blue about her car?" asked Ronan.

"She said I can borrow it."

"That's great."

The first time they'd talked, after Adam had arrived in London, they made plans for Adam to join Ronan at the Barns the day after he returned. He just needed Blue's car to get there.

"Yeah…" Adam smiled, starting intently at Ronan through the screen. "It is."

Everything was set. They'd worked out all the technical details, including the discussion about safe sex. They'd both been tested and were both clean. They had the time and the place. Ronan had even ordered a queen-size bed to upgrade from the small twin in his bedroom. 

They were in love and they had nothing standing in-between them now.

~ ~ ~

"You fucking did what? Declan, you fucking asshole!" Ronan shouted. He started pacing around Gansey's overly stuck-up, pretentious office at the brownstone. "I don't fucking – goddamn it to hell – I don't fucking believe you, you fucking asshole!"

"You called me that already," Declan said dryly.

"Fuck you! I get to call you whatever the fuck I want as many times as I want. You hired a goddamn – Jesus, Mary, and Joseph – you hired a goddamn private investigator to track down my boyfriend's parents!"

"Oh, he's your boyfriend now? So, things have progressed, I see."

"Shut. Up. Just shut the fuck up!" Ronan stopped pacing. He closed his eyes and put his balled fist to his forehead. He wanted to hit something, _someone_. He took a deep breath, looked at this brother and said, "This is shitty, even for you. I thought things were _progressing_ with our trust issues. But you'll never trust me. You never did fucking trust me, even before I went off the fucking rails."

"This isn't about trust. I did a standard background check." He put up his hand when Ronan opened his mouth. Ronan envisioned breaking it. "I ordered the standard background check that I do on anyone – including people that I date – that comes into our lives."

Ronan snorted. "You're dad." He put his palms flat against the side of his head. "You're fucking dad, Declan. _'Standard background check.'_ Do you even fucking hear yourself?"

Now, Declan looked just as angry as him. "You left me no choice, little brother. You're not very good at picking decent romantic partners."

"What the – first, there was nothing romantic about Kavinsky and me. And, second, that was the fucking point! Don't you get that? I didn't _pick_ Kavinsky because I thought he was decent. I wanted someone to hurt me." Ronan stalked towards Declan. Declan didn't flinch, but he braced himself for a punch. Ronan yanked the file out of his hand. He waved it in Declan's face. "Did you read this? Do you know where his parents are?"

Declan nodded.

"You fucking piece of shit." He sank down in the nearest chair. "I can't believe you did this."

"There were holes in Parrish's history. Things weren't adding up. His parents just disappeared from his life, and I… I didn't know what had happened to them."

"What? Did you think he fucking killed them or something – oh, Christ, you did!"

"No," Declan said, but it was obvious that he'd considered the possibility. "On the top of my theory list was that they'd been convicted of a crime and sent to jail."

Ronan smacked himself a few times on the forehead with the folder. 

"Are you going to read it?" Declan asked.

"No – no! I'm not going to fucking read it. I don't know if Adam wants to know where his parents are. I don't want to know something like that when he doesn't."

"You're not going to tell him about this – are you?"

"Of course, I am."

Declan looked shocked. "Why?"

"Because I'm not a sneaky piece of shit – like you!" He stood up and started pacing again. He imagined how much this was going to hurt Adam. It felt like there was a fist crushing his heart. Adam was going to be hurt because of him. He couldn't bear it.

"I really thought you and me were getting better," Ronan said. That hurt too.

He had to get out of this room. He slammed the door on his way out. But he only got as far as the foot of the stairs. He stalked back and almost ran right into Declan in the doorway. 

Ronan poked him in the chest. "Be at the Barns tomorrow afternoon. We're going to work this out _dad's way_."

"What? No. Ronan, you're nuts. We're adults now."

He shoved past Ronan. Ronan grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. "Yes. We are. That's the only way we can get passed this. If you don't show, consider yourself dead to me."

"Are you fucking kidding me? _Dead to you?_ Over some guy you just met?"

"No, Declan. Over the fact that you think you can rule my life. Over the fact that you won't let me find out for myself what makes me happy. Over the fact that you didn't talk to me about this before you did it. Be there or don't. I'm giving you a fucking choice, and that's more than you gave me."

~ ~ ~

Ronan and Finn were in the kitchen at the Barns when Declan came in through the mud room. He dropped a gym bag on the table and an expensive leather overnight bag on the chair.

Chainsaw, who'd been napping on Ronan's lap, leapt up on the table and hissed at him, her tail fluffing out, making it look like a feather duster. 

"Good, girl," Ronan said. "Good, Chainsaw. You know how to sense evil, don't you?"

"Oh, fuck off, Ronan," Declan said. Scowling, he looked at Finn wrapping Ronan's hand with tape. "I can't believe you’re serious about this," he said.

Ronan ignored him.

"Jesus fucking Christ." He grabbed his bags and stomped out of the kitchen, mumbling under his breath.

Finn shook his head.

"What?" Ronan asked.

"Feckin' Eejits."

"If I wanted your opinion, I'd ask for it."

"Maybe if you told me what he did."

Ronan grunted.

Finn stared at him.

"He's a dick," Ronan said.

"He was a dick a wee two days ago, but you weren't threatening to smash his mug in for it."

"I can't tell you, Finn. It's about Adam and it's private."

"Ah..." Finn finished taping and smacked the table with his hand. "Well, let's go get you warmed up, then."

Years ago, after Ronan and Declan had gotten into a fist fight, one six and the other nine, Niall Lynch had built a boxing ring in the barn farthest away from the farmhouse, and he'd taught the boys how to box. _'With honor and sportsmanship, like men, not common streetfighters.'_ From then on out, all future serious disagreements between the boys had to be settled in the ring. Though, Matthew had never been inside the ring for anything more than training. Neither Ronan or Declan had ever had a disagreement with him that warranted a fight.

Niall had a few rules: the boys could only fight with a referee; the referee had to be Niall himself or Finn; headgear must always be worn; and, when the fight was over, the issue was done and settled. 

Today, like he'd done when they were kids more often than Niall, since Niall was hardly ever around, Finn oversaw everything. He made sure they were properly warmed up and had all the necessary gear on. He got them into the ring and went over the rules.

"The fight ends when one of you call it and then the case is settled. No more fighting." He looked back and forth between them. "Understand?"

Declan nodded. Ronan grunted.

Finn stepped back. "Touch gloves and go!"

The brothers tapped gloved and started to dance around each other. "You know," Declan said, "you have an advantage. You still train."

"Shut the fuck up, Declan, and fight."

Declan was right. Ronan did have a physical advantage. Not only did he still train, but he'd train with some of the best in the world for his stunts. But Declan had an advantage over Ronan too. Declan had excellent control and he knew Ronan too well; he could easily predict Ronan's next move. He made first contact to Ronan's cheek. It ignited Ronan's anger, and Ronan made the second hit and the third. They went back and forth, trading punches and jabs, for a full round. Finn ordered a break, and Ronan went to his corner, feeling his bottom lip swelling and pulsating. He looked across the ring at the cut above Declan's eye.

The next round Ronan came out swinging, with a one-two combo, knocking Declan to his knees. 

Niall Lynch's tactics might've been harsh, maybe even abusive, and they explained a lot about how Ronan had unhealthy learned how to deal with his anger, but he'd believed that this had been the best way to resolve arguments between two stubborn young boys. He had been certain that the winner would always be the boy who'd been right, because he wouldn't give in, because he'd want it more.

As Ronan's glove connected with Declan's face, he imagined the look on Adam's face when he told him that Declan knew where his parents were, he imagined Adam telling him that he never wanted to see him again, and he heard the crack and saw the blood spurt out of Declan's nose, and he knew for sure that his father had been right. He wanted it so much more.

Declan's hands flew up to his face, he cursed, and staggered backward. Ronan hopped from foot to foot in front of him. Declan held up his hand. "I'm done."

Ronan stilled. "You're done?"

"Yeah - yeah. I'm done. You win."

Anger and hurt weren't something that could be turned off by landing a good punch, but it was a promise to agree to let it go, and Ronan Lynch was nothing but honorable and always kept his promises. He held out his gloves. Declan tapped them. 

Finn cleaned Declan up in the barn, taping his nose and stitching the cut above his eye. Back in the farmhouse, they found ham and cheese sandwiches on the table, pea soup simmering on the stove, and a jug of fresh milk waiting for them. Mary Finnegan, like Aurora Lynch, had never wanted anything to do with what went on in that boxing ring, but, exactly like Aurora Lynch, she had no issue with feeding them after.

Finn grabbed a sandwich, called them 'eejits' again, and left the brothers alone. Declan took out an ice pack from the freezer, sat down, and held it on his nose. Ronan scooped out a big bowl of soup and stood at the counter eating it, ignoring the pain in his lip. 

"For what it's worth…" Declan removed the ice from his face. "When I looked through Adam's history and pieced together what had happened, I realized that my decision not to talk to you first wasn't the best decision I could have made." 

Maybe there was hope for Declan yet.

"When are you going to tell him?" Declan asked.

"When he gets home."

"You know – you don't have to tell him."

Maybe not.

"I don't lie."

"Tell him that I'm sor –"

"Tell him yourself."

Declan sighed. "I brought my suit. I thought maybe I'd stay the night and we could go to St. Agnes's mass tomorrow… together."

"Okay," he said and yanked the ice pack out of Declan's hands and put it on his fat lip.

Ronan couldn't get on his knees in front of Adam and beg him not to break things off, not to end it before they really even got started, because that would be sad and pathetic. 

But he had no problem getting on his knees in front of God and begging him instead.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've marked this complete. Because I have to really get serious about writing my Raven Cycle Big Bang!! BUT there will be more in this universe. I promise! I have quite a lot still outlined for this story.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this part!

A Love Story in Three Acts  
Act. III  
_They Live Happily Ever After (most of the time)_

Adam arrived home basking in the afterglow of a successful time spent in London. At the conference, his talks had not only gone extremely well, but his research had attracted the attention of well-renowned ecologist Dr. Rupa Khatri. Adam had greatly admired Dr. Khatri for along time, but he'd never dreamed that she would invite him to the Wageningen University and Research Center in the Netherlands to present his research to her staff. Someone had even mistakenly called him Dr. Parrish, filling him with pride and confidence. For the first time in his life, he'd felt like a real scientist instead of just a student. 

The newfound success with his work and his new relationship with Ronan made the future feel wider and bigger than his past. 

He only had things to look forward to, like his long weekend with Ronan. He hadn't told Ronan yet that he had off Monday for President's Day. He wanted it to be surprise, but he was the one surprised, when he reached the third floor of the brownstone and heard Ronan's voice coming from Ronan's bedroom.

"Goddammit, Chainsaw, stop walking on my face!"

Adam left his suitcase in the hallway outside his room and knocked on Ronan's door.

"Fuck," Ronan said. "Hold on. I'm trying to keep her in here. Calm the fuck – ouch, no biting. We talked about this!"

Ronan opened the door, holding a squirming Chainsaw in one arm. Adam had a lot to take in at that moment. 

"I have so many questions right now, but let's start with – what happened to your face?"

"You should see the other guy – ow! Stop being an asshole!" He shifted Chainsaw so that she was hanging from his forearm. "Let me put her –" Adam turned sideways and slid by Ronan into the room. "We could talk in your room. She's a real pain in the ass."

"She got so big." Adam held out his arms. "Give her to me."

Ronan kicked the door closed and passed her off to Adam, who kissed the top of her head and plopped her down on the bed. She immediately ran away from him and jumped onto the floor, where she started batting around a bottlecap.

"She loves those things," Ronan said. He shoved his hand into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out three more of them. "Mary's been collecting them for her. She likes the plastic rings from milk containers too. Noah said he'll start to collect them for her."

Adam, who had sat down on the corner of the bed, said, "Stop stalling, Lynch. What happened to your face?"

Ronan sighed. He went over to his duffle bag and pulled out a manilla folder. "First, we need to talk about this." Looking worried, he sat down next to Adam, bending one leg up on the bed, so he could face Adam. "So, my brother's a dick."

"You've mentioned that once or twice."

"This is epic levels of dick. He, fuck – he did a background check on you."

"Yeah. I figured he would."

"He sucks, and, if he'd asked me, I would've have never… wait, what? You what?"

Adam shrugged. "Based on what you've told me and the conversation him and I had at his party, I expected him to."

"Oh. Okay then. Um, that's not the bad part though. He had a private investigator look into your parents and where they are – like now."

"That's not surprising either… oh." Adam blamed being tired from his trip for not noticing how distraught Ronan looked. He reached out and touched Ronan's cheek just below the bruise. "This is because of… _this_. This is why you're here…" 

The reality of his life now with Ronan hit him hard. He was wanted and loved by someone like Ronan, who loved hard, with loyalty, and without question. He didn't know what he'd done to deserve the attention of such a beautiful soul, but he was going to do everything he could to give it back to him. 

"Ronan, no. No. I'm not angry. I know what I've signed up for. I'm in _this_. One hundred percent." He ran his hand up Ronan's forearm, feeling goosebumps rise up around his fingers. "I want this. I want _you_. This isn't a big deal." 

"Fuck, Adam... all week… I didn't want you to be hurt because of me."

"I'm not hurt. I'm just glad to be home now. With you."

Ronan made a choked sound and leaned forward, resting his forehead against Adam's temple. Adam gripped Ronan's arm tighter and held the crown of Ronan's head in the palm of his other hand. He needed Ronan to understand that this new relationship of theirs wasn't as fragile as Ronan felt it was. 

"Hey," Adam whispered, pulling back. He reached towards the cut on Ronan's lip, letting his fingertips hover near it. "Will it hurt if I kiss you?"

The day he'd left, he'd memorized every detail of one of Ronan's kisses, and he'd carried it with him to London, taking it out every night, alone in his hotel room. It had given him comfort. It had made an ache. It had made him want. Missing Ronan had been the only awful part of his trip, but it had confirmed to him that Ronan had become part of his life now, together or apart.

"I don't know," Ronan whispered back. "Let's find out." 

Adam started the kiss soft and tender. Ronan pushed it further, grabbing the back of Adam's head and kissing him harder, trying to fill up the gap of the last two weeks.

Suddenly, Ronan yelped and jumped back. He looked down at the floor. "Dammit. She bit my toe." 

Laughing, Adam looked too, but didn't see the kitten. 

Ronan pulled his feet up to rest on the edge of the bedframe. "The little creeper is under the bed."

Adam yawned. He had to admit to himself that he was exhausted. He looked at the time on his phone. "I really need to take a shower and head to bed. Technically, it's two in the morning for me."

"Yeah, sure. Do you…" He grabbed the folder off the bed and held it on his lap. "Do you want this?"

"No." He tapped the folder once. "I always knew I could easily do this. I never wanted to. I still don't. There's a shredder in Gansey's office. Shred it, please."

"My pleasure."

Adam looked at the bruise on Ronan's cheek. "I can't believe that you and Declan had a fistfight because of this."

"Not just over this. We're always… it's complicated. But it wasn't uncivilized or anything. There's a boxing ring in one of the barns. We worked it out there."

"You're kidding me? An actual boxing ring?"

"Yeah." He shrugged." A boxing ring."

"And you boxed - like with gloves?"

"Yep. And a referee – Finn."

Adam shook his head. "Rich people are so weird."

~ ~ ~

Sometime in the middle of the night, Ronan had come into his room and crawled into bed next to him. Adam woke up, but was too groggy to talk. He only rolled over and curled his arm and leg over Ronan, settling his face in Ronan's neck.

When he woke, just before nine, which was unusually late for him, Ronan wasn't in bed. In his place, on the empty pillow, Adam found a piece of paper. 

He rubbed his groggy eyes and looked at it. It was a colored pencil drawing on heavy rag paper of the Magician tarot card, with a few variations. The most important being that Adam was the Magician, standing in the classic pose, with an infinity halo floating about his head, and one hand with a wand pointing towards the sky and the other hand pointing at the earth. Instead of wearing robes and a red cape, he wore his old, comfortable Harvard sweatshirt and jeans. Placed on the table, in front of him, was his own coffee mug with the traditional Magician tarot card, an open notebook, Chainsaw curled up in a ball sleeping, and a box of Poptarts. On his shoulder sat Mary the Hyacinth macaw that lived in Cabeswater. The front half of his bike was visible behind him, and above him, hanging down from the edge of the border, were the long, graceful fonds of a Boston fern.

Adam sat there stunned and unmoving, staring at it for a longtime, noting every detail. He looked at his own fingers and then at the drawing, admiring how Ronan had captured them perfectly. 

This wasn't just a drawing. This was a reflection of Ronan's worship. 

Afraid it might get damaged, Adam carefully placed it in an empty drawer and went to find Ronan. Not surprisingly, he found him in the kitchen, mixing something in a big white bowl. 

"Hey, Parrish. Morning, do you want –" Adam didn't let him finish. He trapped Ronan against the counter, kissing him ferociously.

Someone cleared their throat. Adam turned around to see Blue, Gansey, Noah, and Lloyd all sitting at the dining room table looking back at him. 

Lloyd waggled his eyebrows and waved at him. Blue said, "We don't mind, if you don't."

Adam felt his face go hot. He turned back to Ronan, who wore a shit-eating grin, showing all of his teeth. 

"You could have warned me," Adam said.

"Kinda hard with your tongue in my mouth," Ronan replied, holding out Adam's coffee mug for him.

Now, Adam noticed the pancakes cooking on the stove and the bacon piled high on a plate.

Adam turned his back to his friends at the table and wrapped his hand around the mug, over Ronan's fingers. Quietly, he said, "I'll thank you for the drawing." Adam's other hand went to Ronan's hip. "Later. When we're alone."

"Fuck, Parrish," Ronan breathed.

"Yep. That's exactly right."

"Damn. You are so good at this too."

"At what?"

"Flirting. Fuck."

"Really?" Adam pulled his mug away and busied himself pouring coffee. He'd never considered himself good at flirting. It'd always felt awkward and stilted, but he had to admit that it came easy with Ronan.

Ronan went back to the pancakes, flipping them over. "Yeah. Trust me."

"I'm right though. We are going to the Barns later, right?"

"Yeah, but first – "

"Um, sorry, excuse me." Gansey stood at the island with his plate in his hand. "Can I get some of that bacon?"

Ronan pointed the spatula at Gansey, "Keep your pants on, Dick." He glared at Gansey, until he walked away. "We'll talk later. Now, how many pancakes do you want?"

They didn't talk until breakfast was over and they'd said good-bye to Lloyd, who was leaving for L.A. later that afternoon to make plans for his upcoming move to New York. Adam was unpacking in his room when he looked up to find Ronan leaning against the doorframe, watching him.

"How long have you been there?" he asked, surprised that Ronan could be so quiet and still.

Ronan stepped into the room and walked over to the Boston fern. He picked up the spray bottle next to it. "What's this for?"

"You need to mist the leaves."

Ronan inspected the plant. "How often?"

"Every three days," Adam replied as he threw his dirty clothes into a whicker laundry basket. 

"Who did it while you were away?"

Ronan wasn't big on small talk. Adam figured he was working up the nerve to ask or tell Adam something. 

"Noah," Adam said. He went to the dresser for fresh clothes for the weekend. "We didn't get a chance to catch up last night. Any updates on Andre?"

"Yeah. They released him on Thursday. All charges were dropped."

If Ronan had heard from Andre, he would've mentioned it. He didn't. Neither did Adam. "You did a good thing, Ronan."

Ronan grunted and shrugged. 

"Speaking of good things…" Adam retrieved Ronan's Magician drawing from the drawer. He handed it to Ronan. There's a frame on top of the dresser. Gansey had an extra one. Will you put my drawing in it for me?"

"Sure."

Ronan worked on setting up the picture in the frame, while Adam sorted out his toiletry bag, removing things he wouldn't need over the weekend and putting them back in the bathroom. When Ronan was done, he set the framed drawing on the nightstand, leaning it against the wall.

Eyeing it, Adam said, "Don't you think it's a bit narcissistic to have a drawing of myself next to my bed?"

"Maybe," Ronan said. "We could take it to the Barns, if you –"

"No," Adam said too quickly. "I want it here."

Ronan shrugged. "'K"

"I'm ready when you are," Adam said, zipping up his overnight bag.

"Sure, yeah. I'm ready. Just, um, one thing first." Ronan rocked back and forth from side to side, like a tree blowing in the wind. "There's an open AA meeting at noon, and I wanted to go."

"Okay."

"Open means non-alcoholics can attend."

"You want me to go with you?"

Ronan nodded.

Adam nodded back. "Okay."

"Cool. I'm going to feed Chainsaw and clean her litter – my fucking room smells like a kennel. We can swing back and pick her up after the meeting."

"I'll meet you downstairs then."

Several minutes later, they met downstairs and headed out for the meeting, with Ronan looking comfortable and cool, in a black skullcap and aviator sunglasses. They didn't speak much on the drive over. Ronan didn't look like he had much to say. 

At the meeting, the chairs were lined up in a row facing a podium. Adam counted eighteen people sitting and nine people standing. Ronan took off his leather jacket, shoved his hat in the pocket, and hung his sunglass from the neck of his thin, black V-neck sweater. 

"Sit here," he said, putting the jacket on the back of an empty chair in the back row. 

Adam sat in the chair next to it. Ronan leaned down and said, "I'm speaking today, so I've got to go talk to Rob – he runs the meetings. Get something to drink and eat if you want it."

Adam nodded. He watched Ronan walk away and approach two men. Adam looked around the room, studying the people. There was a mix of expressions in the room. Some looked uncomfortable. Some bored. Some angry. A middle-aged woman was sitting with a younger version of herself, who looked about nineteen. Both looked sad. Adam wondered which one was the alcoholic. 

An older, bald white man walked up to the podium. "Hi, I'm Rob. I'm an alcoholic."

"Hi Rob," said most of the crowd. 

Everyone who'd been standing, except for Ronan, found an empty seat and sat down.

"This is an open speaker meeting, but we still maintain our core values. The most important being that this is anonymous. That means you don't share what was said in this room or _who_ was in this room. Obviously, that means no photos or no videos. No mentions - even vague ones on social media." He looked around the room as he spoke, pausing to make eye contact often. "It's not illegal if you do. You won't be a criminal, but you'll certainly be an asshole." The crowd laughed. "Understand?"

There were 'yeses' and sounds of agreement in the room.

"Good," Rob said. "Now that we've got that out of the way. Today is a milestone day for our first speaker." Rob motioned towards Ronan, who walked up to join him at the podium. Rob handed him a gold token and shook Ronan's hand. "Congratulations on three years sober."

Adam clapped along with the crowd, telling himself he wasn't wrong for not knowing. Ronan hadn't told him. Well, he guessed he was telling him now. 

Rob sat down in the front row, leaving Ronan alone. Ronan put the chip in his pocket and kept his hand in there. The other hand gripped the edge of the podium. "Hi. I'm Ronan. I'm an alcoholic."

"Hi Ronan."

"I'm an alcoholic. I said that already, but I've been saying that to myself a lot lately. See, I thought alcoholism was something that happened to me. I thought it was a disease that I caught. I thought I caught it because I couldn't deal with my feelings of grief.

"For those who don't know me…" A tiny, nervous ripple went around the room. "My parents were murdered in our home, and I was the one who found them.

"I'd never had a drink before then." He let go of the podium and put his other hand in his pocket. He shrugged. "Why would I have? I was only fifteen when it happened. Fifteen the first time I took my dead father's whisky from the kitchen cabinet, the same day we buried them, and drank half the bottle in the backseat of his car.

"A lifetime and a lot of bad decisions later, I decided I didn't want to live my life as a drunk. I wanted something better for myself. I wanted to be happy, _and_ I thought when I was, I wouldn't want to drink anymore. Don't get me wrong. I knew that I couldn't drink anymore. I understood that part of it. But I'd thought that, once the grief and pain weren't so bad, and I had my life on track, I wouldn't want a drink.

"But, now, I'm on that right track. My career is where I want it to be. I've made amends to all of my friends and my family." 

Ronan looked to the back row at Adam, locking their eyes. "I even fell in love with someone really special, who I thought was super smart, but it seems that he's dumb enough to love me back."

A few people laughed.

He bowed his head. "And I still want a drink." He looked back up at Adam again. "I want a drink right now. Right this second. I want it just as much as I did after I had my first drink – just as much as I did three years ago, when I walked into my first AA meeting. Because being an alcoholic isn't something that happened to me, it's something that I am. 

"I'm an alcoholic. 

"I've stopped blaming my drinking on my parents dying. Even if they hadn't died, I would've found a reason to take that first drink eventually. Even if it was just for a social reason. I would've had that first drink, and I wouldn't have stopped, until I ended up," he pointed at the floor, "right here, in jail, or dead."

"Alcoholics don't catch this disease. We don't choose it either. But – fuck - it's what got handed to us and it doesn't have to fuck up our lives. I'm thankful for this program for helping me stay sober the past three years and allowing me to start a new life." He took a deep breath and said on the exhale, "Thanks for listening."

Everyone, but Adam, applauded. Their claps felt rude, jarring. It felt wrong to clap for someone after they'd shared something so personal and intimate. 

Rob stood up and went to the podium, and Ronan walked back to Adam and sat down. Adam continued facing the speaker, but he wasn't really hearing him. He was hyperaware of Ronan beside him. It felt like he could feel the vibrations of Ronan's heart beating. 

In between the short space of switching to a new speaker, Ronan leaned over and whispered, "This is it, Parrish. This is me. This will be life with me. Still want in?"

Adam whispered back, "Stupid questions must be contagious, Lynch."

Looking angry or bored or maybe both, Ronan slid down in the chair with his arms crossed over his chest. The soft, satisfied smile he wore gave away that he wasn't either of those things. He turned and looked at Adam, who was staring at him. 

_'What?'_ Ronan's lifted eyebrow asked. 

_'I love you,'_ Adam's smile said. 

Ronan's smile grew bigger.

He couldn't believe that he'd ever thought Ronan was selfish and spoiled. Okay, he was a little spoiled. Okay, a lot spoiled, but he hadn't just been spoiled on money; he'd grown up spoiled on love too and it had filled him with so much of it that it hurt him not to give it away. His love boiled over and spilled out of him, filling up the people he loved with it. 

Adam understood it all now. Ronan needed love, to give it, to show it, and Adam found out just how much Ronan needed to show his love, later, when they'd finally got to the Barns, and Ronan had him spread out naked on the new queen bed in his bedroom.

This hadn't been the way Adam had thought it would go. When he'd imagined this finally happening, he'd pictured – in great detail - that he'd be the one focusing on Ronan, giving Ronan all of the attention. But Ronan had taken control from the moment they'd step into the house. He seemed desperate to touch Adam _everywhere_, lavishing Adam's body with his mouth and his hands, with a need that was wild and demanding, sensuous and desperate in a 'I can't control myself because I want you so much' way.

_'Oh my god…'_ Ronan was good at this. _So_ good at this. Adam tried to pay attention. He wanted to learn from Ronan, study his technique, but he couldn't think with Ronan's lips wrapped around his cock and his tongue swirling around it like that. _'Oh my god…'_ Ronan was so, so good at this. 

Too good…. "Ronan…" Adam squeezed Ronan's hand that was gripping his hip. "Ronan… stop… stop… it's – I'll come… it's too early for that."

Ronan looked up from between Adam's legs. "You going somewhere, Parrish?"

"Well, no, but –"

Ronan sat back on his haunches, his face serious, but his eyes playful. They looked like they had that day in the back of the Escalade. He was happy.

"How many times do you think you can come in a day?"

"What the hell. I don't know!"

"Come on – ha – you're the scientist. You do the math, surely you know your recovery time."

Adam propped himself up on his elbows and stared at Ronan sitting there gloriously naked and hard. 

"Well?"

"Oh my god, Ronan, I can't – can't think with you looking like that."

"Let's narrow the time period down then. Let's say from now until we have to leave this room. Which might be a few hours. We've already eaten." He waved his hand towards the water bottles on the nightstand. "And I've provided enough hydration." 

"Okay – okay. Two, _maybe_ three times before I pass – "

"Good, then, it's settled. I can get the fuck back to what I was doing, because we've got plenty more opportunities. Okay?"

Adam didn't know why it had, but the conversation had turned him on even more. He laid back down. He spread his legs wider and nonchalantly said, "Yeah, okay. If you insist." Ronan laughed as he leaned forward and took all of Adam's cock back into his mouth.

For the record, the answer was three. 

Adam came three times and Ronan twice, by the time they went downstairs, in only their underwear, for warm apple pie and vanilla ice cream. They both ate two pieces and a half a gallon of ice cream, standing at the counter. 

"The bed's a mess," Ronan said. "We'll have to change the sheets."

Adam nodded. "Need a shower too."

"I have a better idea." Ronan put his plate in the sink and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Can you handle cleaning this up?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Okay. Meet me upstairs when you're done."

Adam absorbed the quiet of his surroundings while he washed and dried the dishes. The way the Barns made him feel surprised him. He'd lived so many different places over the years that he'd never really felt anything emotional about a place. Except Cabeswater. He felt comfortable and secure when he was in Cabeswater, and the Barns gave him that same feeling. Like he knew it and it knew him. 

On his way upstairs, he stopped and looked at the photos that lined the wall. Aurora Lynch, assuming that it had been her who had put these photos up, had favored candid shots over posed ones. Though, young Ronan had looked happy and less troubled, Gansey had been right about him. Even as a child there had been hard edges on him. He'd looked defensive, ready to fight or… Adam reconsidered his assessment and changed it. Ronan had looked defensive, ready to _protect_ something or someone. 

"What are you doing?" Ronan stood at the top of the stairs, still wearing only his black boxer briefs. "Come on. The water's getting cold."

Adam used what little energy he had left to walk up the stairs. "Water?"

Ronan took his hand and led him through the door at the end of the hallway and into a bedroom without any furniture, except for a large cedar chest under a huge bay window. A few photos and paintings were still on the wall. Adam noticed a painting of Aurora Lynch, wearing a white t-shirt under overalls, standing in front of one of the barns on a sunny day. It captured more than just her outer beauty. Only Ronan could have painted it.

Ronan opened another door and Adam heard the sound of bubbling water. A bath. Adam stepped into the master bathroom behind Ronan and sucked in his breath. "Wow."

"Yeah," Ronan said. "It was the one luxury my mom couldn't give up. She loved relaxing in here. Dad said it she was hiding from the three of us."

In the corner of the room, surrounded by windows, was a huge bathtub filled with whirling steaming hot water. On the other side of the room was a large walk-in shower that looked like it could fit four people comfortably. A long white vanity, with two plush, deep rose velvet chairs, took up most of one wall.

"Where's the toilet?" asked Adam.

Ronan pointed to a door in the corner. "Through there." He hooked his thumbs in his underwear and pulled them down. Adam admired his ass and thighs as he stepped, one leg at a time, into the tub. He eased himself slowly down, until he was fully seated. "Oh my god…" he moaned, spreading his arms out along the edge of the tub and putting his head back. "This feels fucking great. What are you waiting for? This is heaven."

Adam slipped his boxers off and carefully slid into the tub. The water was hot and smelled faintly of lavender and mint. It did feel great.

"What the fuck you doing over there?" Ronan asked. "Come here." 

The water sloshed and made small waves as Adam moved to the other side of the tub. He sagged back against Ronan, and Ronan engulfed him with his arms and legs. 

Being held by Ronan's body made him feel safe. Feeling Ronan's kisses along his shoulder made him feel loved. Lying in a pool of warm, massaging water made him feel pampered.

So why was his heart starting to race? Why did he feel a sense of dread settling into his bones? Why were anxious ugly thoughts going off like bombs in his head? 

_I can't give Ronan anything like this. I have nothing. Only a small, sad, rented bedroom and a bike and a pile of student loans. He's accustomed to luxury, and I'm used to cheap and second hand things. Even my bike I bought used. I can't give him anything. He'll see that soon. How could someone like Ronan love someone like me?'_

He took a deep breath. _'Stop. This is illogical. You know none of this is true. Ronan wants you.'_ Adam closed his eyes and leaned into Ronan more. _'He loves me. I know he loves me.'_

They stayed in the tub until their skin was wrinkled and they struggled to stay awake. They changed the sheets on Ronan's bed together, and when Ronan ran the dirty sheets downstairs to the washer, Adam took the opportunity to sit on the edge of the bed and doing his breath exercises. 

In. One. Two. Three. Four.

Hold. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

Out. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight.

Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

"Hey, you okay?" 

Adam looked up at Ronan standing in the doorway. He smiled. "Yeah. Fine. Just relaxing before bed."

He hadn't realized he'd been shivering until he saw the quilt Ronan held to his chest. Ronan spread it out on the bed, and they both slipped under it. They maneuvered around until they were on their sides. Ronan behind Adam, holding him and nuzzling his nose into Adam's neck.

Adam pulled the quilt up to his face. It was old, the colors faded and threadbare in some places, and it smelled slightly of mothballs. Adam wondered if Ronan had got it from the chest he'd seen in Aurora and Niall's bedroom. 

"This quilt – " Adam begun.

"It was always on my bed growing up. If it's not comfortable, I can –"

"It's perfect," he said, meaning it. "Nice and warm." 

His heart slowed down. He felt like he could breathe again. Physical exhaustion took over and he fell asleep in seconds. 

In the morning, Adam thought a full-blown panic attack had been diverted. It was a laid-back easy morning that had started out with slow, lazy morning sex, and as he laid on his side, holding Ronan and rocking into him, relaxed and unhurried, he couldn't believe he'd been so ridiculous.

They made breakfast together and ate it in the dining room with the curtains on the window drawn back, giving them a view of the fields. There was nothing to be anxious or worried about. That's why when the panic attack hit, Adam had been completely unprepared.

"Adam, fuck, are you okay?" Ronan kicked away the pieces of the plate that Adam had just dropped in front of the sink. He grabbed Adam's shaking hands. "Jesus, can you breathe?"

Adam shook his head. Sweat poured down the sides of his face from his scalp. He could feel his pulse beating in his neck and his temples. His heart was beating fast – too fast – maybe, this time he'd have a heart attack or a stroke. The room spun. He swayed. Ronan grabbed his hand and placed the palm of it against his chest, putting his own hand over it to keep it there. 

"Okay. Breathe with me, Adam." He breathed in, held it, released it. He did it again, exhaling loudly. "Feel how I'm breathing. Breath with me. This is how you were doing it last night, right? Breath in. Hold it. Breath out." 

He did it again and again. Adam focused on the sounds of Ronan's breath and his heart beating strong and steady against the palm of his hand. It helped him take control of his breathing. His heart rate slowed down. His legs felt like rubber. He reached out and grabbed the chair, pulling it towards him, he moved to sit down. Ronan let him go and let him sit. Adam leaned down and put his head his hands. Ronan cleaned up the plate, throwing the pieces in the garbage. 

"That was a panic attack," Adam said, accidently letting his accent slip out. He sat up straight. "I have a panic disorder."

"I know what the fuck it was." Ronan poured a glass of water and put it on the table next to him. "Why the fuck didn't you tell me this happens? Did I do the right thing? Fuck."

"You did the right thing."

"Did I do anything to bring it on?"

"No. No." Adam sighed. "Sometimes they just happen."

"Want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

Ronan shrugged. "Okay." 

Ronan went into the mudroom without an explanation.

Adam got up and soaked a paper towel to wipe his face. He heard Ronan come in behind him. He turned around. Ronan had put Adam's coat on the chair and his sneakers on the floor next to it. Ron was sitting on the chair, wearing his coat, and putting his boots on. 

He pointed at Adam's things. "Put those on."

"Where are we going?"

Ronan didn't answer. Adam did as he'd been told and they walked outside through the kitchen door. Ronan led him into one of the larger barns, painted a classic barn color of brick red with white trim. Ronan led him to a ladder leading up to the loft. Ronan climbed up first. Adam waited until he reached the top and then followed.

In the loft, Ronan opened the large sliding door and sat down along the edge, letting his feet dangle outside. Adam sat down next to him. Here he could see all of the Barns and the fields and forest beyond. They sat there silently for a while in the cold, Adam watching their breathes coming out of them like puffs of smoke. The longer they sat there the more the muscles in his neck and shoulders started to relax.

The silence broke when Ronan sighed. Still facing-forward, looking out over his home, he said, "The way I see it, Parrish, is that you and I have been through a ton of fucked up shit. Serious fucked up shit. It broke us. We're broken. But we don't accept that. We break and we put ourselves back together again. And then we break again and we put ourselves back together again. But each time, maybe, we put ourselves back together again a little bit more whole."

Adam reached over and took Ronan's hand. Their clasped hands sat between them. He turned to look at Ronan's profile. '_So, this is love.'_ Well, damn. He finally got it. He finally understood love songs and all of those love poems he had studied in school, even the Latin ones. Especially, the Latin ones.

He got it all now, and he understood what he'd felt that day in Ronan's room, when he'd accidently scried into Ronan's painted forest. The love that had felt trapped and lonely. The love that had been begging to be set free. It had been _his_. That crushing feeling of love had been the love that he had inside of him. He never thought he was capable of love. It had felt so foreign and unknowable, but, now, looking at Ronan, he understood it completely. 

Adam looked back out over the lands. A nightmare had happened here. The unthinkable. Two people murdered. Three orphans left behind. Broken. It had been broken too.

Yet, it was still wondrous and beautiful. Even magical. Most of all, it was still loveable.

"Paint me this, please. I want to have a piece of this with me when I'm back in D.C.."

Ronan lifted their still clasped hands and held the back of Adam's hand to his lips.

Adam had envisioned a small portrait of the Barns, like his Magician drawing. He'd even planned on hanging it above his dresser. Instead, the following Thursday, back in D.C., he came home from work to find a mural of the Barns wrapped around three out of the four walls of his bedroom.

There it was huge and bold and overwhelming and perfect and it had shown up unexpectedly and completely unplanned in Adam's very structured, organized life, and changed the way he looked at things. Just like its artist. And Adam wouldn't have it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Thank you to everyone who left kudos or comments. Your support really helped me to "finish" this story. I hope you all are safe and healthy.


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